Paul and Virginie

PAUL AND

CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY

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PAUL AND

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THIS EDITION

IS

LIMITED TO 80

COPIES

4o0 for the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. 350 for the United States of America.

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BERNARDIN DE

SAINT-PIElUil':

PAUL AND

VIRGINIA WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

MAURICE LELOIR

LONDON GEORGE ROUTE EDGE AND SONS BROAIJWAY, LUDGATE HILL

GLAS(;0\V

A

AND MEW YORK

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TABLE OF FULL-P^GE ENGRAVINGS

Page

BERN'AnDi>f BE Sai.n't-Pierhe.

Frontispiece.

TuE Children's Bath.

15

Tee Petticoat Umbrella.

19

The Slave pardoned.. The Passage of the River.

35

Virginia te\di.\g the Sick.

53

TABr.E OF KULL-PAGE ElNGRAVKNGS. Page

Paul and Virginia dancing.

60

Virginia escaping from Paul,

75

Virginia dressed..

91

107

Paul on the Rock. Virginia on board the Ship..

The Funeral

.

163

173

3^4

BERNARDIN

I)E

SAINT-PIERRE

.K

Love

of Nature,

strong feeling

that

enthusiasm which leads

to a

of

profound ad-

miration of the whole works of creation, helongs,

it

may

peculiarity of

be presumed, to a certain

organization,

and has^ no

doubt, existed in different individuals from the beginning of the world.

The

old poets and philosophers, romance-wi'iters

and troubadours, had

and admiring tally

eyes.

all

looked upon Nature with observing

They have most

charming pictures of

of

them given

inciden-

Sjjring, of the setting sun, of parti-

cular spots, and of favourite flowers.

There are few writers of note, of any country or of any age, from

whom

quotations might not be

made

in proof of b

MEMOIR OV

X

the love with which they regarded Nature. applies as

poets,

much

— equally

to religious to Plato, St.

And

remark

this

and philosophic writers as to Frangois de Sales, Bacon, and

Fenelon, as to Shakspeare, Racine, Calderon, or Burns; for

from no of the

really philosophic or religious doctrine can the love

works

of Nature be excluded.

But before the days of Jean Jacques Rousseau, Buffon, and St. Pierre, this love of Nature had not been

Bernardin de expressed in

written on exclusively. then, as they

Though

Until their day,

intensity.

all its

may

The lovers

it

had not been

were

of Nature

not,

till

perhaps since be considered, a sect apart.

perfectly sincere in all the adorations they offered,

they were less entirely, and certainly less diligently and constantly, her adorers.

the great praise of Bernardin de Si. Pierre, that

It is

coming immediately

after

Rousseau and Buffon, and being

one of the most proficient writers of the same school, he

was

no degree their imitator, but perfectly original and

in

He

new.

intuitively perceived the

immensity of the subject

he intended to explore, and has told us that no day of his passed without his collecting some valuable materials

life

for his writings.

sought

In the divine works of Nature he diligently

to discover

her laws.

It

was

his early intention not

begin to write until he had ceased to observe but he found observation endless, and that he was " like a child, who to

;

with a shell digs a hole in the sand the ocean."

He elsewhere humbly

to

receive the waters of

says, that not only the

general history of Nature, but even that of the smallest plant,

was

beyond

far

ther of

him

his ability.

as an author,

the chief events of his

it

Before, however, speaking furwill

be necessary to recapitulate

life.

Henri-Jacqdes Bernardin de Sr. Pierre in 1737.

He always considered

vt^as

born

at

Havre

himself descended from that

BERNARniN Eustache

de

who

Pierre,

St.

PIERRE.

1)E ST.

is

xi

by Froissart (and

said

1

believe by Froissart only) to have so generously offered him-

appease the wrath of Edward the Third

self as a victim to

against Calais.

with his companions in virtue,

lie,

was saved by

said,

one of his smaller works, Bernardin asserts it

was

certainly one of

it is

also

Philippa.

In

this descent,

and

Queen

the intercession of

Many

which hcmightbe proud.

anec-

dotes are related of his childhood, indicative of the youthful

author,

— of

and

his strong love of Nature,

his

humanity

to

animals.

That " the child

more strongly

when

related

is

father of the

There

illustrated.

is

man"

has been seldom

a story of a cat, which,

by him many years afterwards

caused that philosopher

to

shed

Rousseau,

to

At eight years of ago

tears.

he took the greatest pleasure in the regular culture of his garden, and possibly then stored up some of the ideas which His sympathy with

afterwards appeared in the "Fraisier." things

all living

was extreme.

In "Paul and Yirginia" he

praises, with evident satisfaction, their

eggs, which had not cost any animal

meal of milk and

its

It

life.

has been

remarked, and possibly with truth, that every tenderly posed heart, deeply imbued with a love of Nature, times somewhat Braminical.

^Yhen

St. Pierre's certainly

who was

towards a carter first

ill-treating a horse.

''My God how high they !

swallows

fly!"

fist

And when

to

him, he exclaimed,

Every one present naturally

Bernardin had only noticed the

who had

at

time, by his father, to Rouen, having the

towers of the cathedral pointed out

laughed.

is

was.

quite young, he advanced with a clenched

taken for the

dis-

built their

nests there.

flight of

some

He thus

early

revealed those instincts which afterwards became the guidance of his

life,

the strength of which possibly occasioned his too

great indilTerence

to all

monumcn ts

of art.

The love

of study

MEMOIR OF

xii

His and of solitude were also characteristics of his childhood. temper is said to have been moody, impetuous, and mtraclWhether this faulty l(>niper may not have been proahle.

duced or rendered worse by mismanagement, cannot now be Itundoubtedlybecamc. afterwards, to St. Pierre, ascertained. a fruitful source of misfortune and of woe.

The reading

of

almost a passion.

voyages was with him, even in childhood, At twelve years of age, his whole soul was His romantic

occupied by Robinson Crusoe and his island.

love of adventure seeming to his parents to announce a predilection in favour of the sea, ho was sent by them

with one of his uncles to Martinique. But St. Pierre had not sufficiently practised the virtue of obedience to submit, as was necessary, to the discipline of a ship.

placed with the Jesuits at

Caen, with

He was

whom

he

afterwards

made im-

mense progress in his studies. But, it is to be feared, he did not conform too well to the regulations of the college, for he conceived, from that time, the greatest detestation lor

And

places of public education.

quently

testified in his writings.

Uiis

aversion he has fre-

While devoted

to his

books

of travels, he in turn anticipated being a Jesuit, a missionary,

or a martyr

:

but his family at length succeeded in establish-

Rouen, where he completed his studies with brilHe soon after obtained a commission In this as an engineer, with a salary of a hundred louis. capacity he was sent (1760) to Dusseldorf, under the com-

ing

him

at

liant success in 1757.

mand

of

Count

St.

Germain.

This was a career in which

he might have acquired both honour and fortune; but, most

unhappily for

St. Pierre,

sary etiquettes of

life

he looked upon the useful and neces-

as so

many unworthy

prejudices.

In-

stead of conforming to them, he sought to trample on them.

In addition, he evinced

some

disposition to rebel against his

commaniler, and was unsocial with his equals.

It is

not

BERNAKDLN DE therefore, to ho

wondered

at,

ST.

PIERRE.

xiii

that at this unrortunato period

of his existence ho madi' himself enemies; or that, notwith-

standing his great talents, or the coolness he had exhihid'd in

moments

of danger, he shonld have been sent back to

Unwelcome, under family, he was ill receiveil by France.

It

is

a lesson yet

circumstances,

Ihcse

his

to

all.

he learned, that genius gives no

to

charter for the indulgence of error,

—

remembered, that only a small portion of

truth

a tlie

yet to be

world will look

with leniency on the failings of the highly gifted; and that,

from themselves, the consequences of never be averted.

It is yet,

their

alas! to be

tions of the ardent in mind, that

own

added

actions can

to the convic-

no degree of excellence

in

science or literature, not e^cn the immortality of a name,

can exempt or give

on

its

possessor from obedience to moral discipline,

him happiness, unless " temper's image

his daily

words and

embittered by his after his return

of

own

from

actions.

conduct. Diisseldorf,

which exhibited him

in

St.

" be

Pierre's life

stamped

was sadly

The adventurous life he led some of the circumstances

an unfavourable light to others,

tended, perhaps, to tinge his imagination with that wild and

tender melancholy so prevalent in his writings. lottery

A prize in the

had just doubled his very slender means of existence,

wlien he obtained the appointment of geographical engineer,

and was sent been

The Knights

to Malta.

time expecting

to

of

liie

Order were

in the service,

it

was singular that

have had the imprudence

to sail

at this

Having already

be attacked by the Turks. St.

Pierre should

He

without his commission.

thus subjected himself to a thousand disagreeables, for officers

would not recognize him

effects of their neglect

on

his

The

as one of themselves.

mind were tremendous

tlie

:

his

reason for a time seemed almost disturbed by the mortilications he suffered.

After receiving an insufficit'ol indemuily

MEMOIR OF

XIV

for the expenses of his voyage, St. Pierre returned to France,

there to endure fresh misfortunes.

Not being able to obtain any assistance from the ministry or his family, he resolved on giving- lessons in the mathematics. But St. Pierre was less adapted than most others for succeeding in the apparently easy, but really ingenious and difficult, art of

stood,

it

teaching.

When

education

that, to

impart

must possess deeper intelsldll in any one

instruction with success, a teacher

ligence than

better under-

is

will be more generally acknowledged,

implied by the profoundest

is

branch of science or of

art.

All minds, even to the youngest,

being taught,

require, while

the utmost compliance and

consideration; and these qualities can scarcely be properly exercised without a true knowledge of the

united to of his

much

practical patience.

certainly did not possess them.

life,

It is

Rousseau, when he attempted in his youth in

music, not knowing anything

human

heart,

St. Pierre, at this period

probable that

to give lessons

whatever of music, was

scarcely less fitted for the task of instruction than St. Pierre

with

all

his

mathematical knowledge.

poverty drove him to Holland.

Amsterdam by

a French refugee

popular journal there, and

who

with handsome remuneration.

The pressure

of

He was well received at named Mvistel, who edited a procui'ed St.

him employment,

Pierre did not, however,

remain long satisfied with this quiet mode of existence.

Allured

by the encouraging reception given by Catherine H. to foreigners, he set out for St. Petersburg. Here, until he obtained the protection of the Marechal de Munich and the friendship of Duval, he had again to contend with poverty.

The

latter

generously opened to him his purse, and by the

Marechal he was introduced

to Yillebois, the

and by him presented

ter

of Artillery,

St.

Pierre was so handsome, that by

to

some

Grand Mas-

the

Empress.

of his friends

BEHNAHDIN DE it

was supposed

sede Orloff

— perhaps

too,

hoped,

own mind,

lie neither

xv

— that he would

super-

But more honour-

the favour of Catherine.

ill

able illusions, though they his

PIERRE.

ST.

wore but

illusions,

sought nor wished

occupied

to captivate

His ambition was to establish a republic on

the Empress.

the shores of the lake Aral, of which, in imitation of Plato or

Rousseau, he was tobc the

reformation of despotism, he

own that

Prc-oocupied with the

legislator.

did not sufficiently look into his

same

heart, or seek to avoid a repetition of the

had already changed friends

a terrible barrier to his success in

into enemies,

His

life.

errors

and been such

mindwas already

morbid, and in fancying that others did not understand him,

he forgot that he did not understand others.

The Empress,

with the rank of captain, bestowed on him a grant of 1500

when General Dubosquet proposed

francs; but

to take

him

with him to examine the military position of Finland, his only anxiety seemed to be to return to France

Finland and his ;

own

:

still

he went to

notes of his occupations and experiments

on that expedition prove that he gave himself up in all diligence to considerations of attarlc and defence. He, who loved Nature so intently, seems only

and majestic

forests of the

to

have seen in the extensive

North a theatre of war.

In this

instance, he appears to have stifled every emotion of admiration,

and

to

have beheld alike

cities

and countries in his

character of military surveyor.

On

his return to St. Petersburg, he

Villebois, disgraced.

the cause of the Poles. reputation,

found

his protector,

St. Pierre then resolved on espousing

He went

into

Poland with a high

— that of having refused the favours of despotism,

to aid the cause of liberty.

But

it

was

his private

life,

rather

than his public career, that was affected by his residence in

Poland.

The Princess Mary

forgetful of

all

fell

in love with him,

and,

considerations, quitted her family to reside

MEMOIR OF

XVI

with him.

Yielding, howcvor, at length,

her mother, she returned

to

her home.

lo the

entreaties of

with

St. Pierre, filled

support the sadness

Vienna; but, unable which oppressed him, and imagining that sadness to be shared Ly the Princess, he soon went back to Poland. His return was still more sad than his departure, for he found himself regret, resorted to

who had once

regarded by her is

to

loved him as an intruder.

It

to this attachment he alludes so touchingly in one of his

"Adieu! friends dearer than the treasures of India!

letters.

Adieu! forests of the Korth, that tender friendship, and the

passed adieu

it!

— days

We

!

live

still

I

—

shall never see again!

dearer sentiment which sur-

of intoxication and of happiness, adieu!

but for a day, to die during a whole

" life

!

This letter appears to one of St. Pierre's most partial

biographers as

if

and he speaks of his

steeped in tears;

romantic and unfortunate adventure in Poland as the ideal of a poet's love. be, " says ^I. Sainte-Beuve, " a great poet,

"To

before he had thought of glory

!

To exhale

the

first

To reveal

a soul of genius, believing himself only a lover! himself, for the

first

and loved

perfume of

time, entirely, but in mystery!

"

In his enthusiasm, M. Sainte-Beuve loses sight of the

melancholy sequel, which must have brance in

St.

circumstance

Pierre's

may

own mind.

left

so sad a

remem-

His suffering from this

perhaps have conduced to his making

Virginia so good and true, and so incapable of giving pain.

In 1766 he returned to Havre; but his relations were by this time

dead or dispersed, and after

six years of exile, he found himself once more in his own country, without employment, and destitute of pecuniary resources.

The Baron de Breteuil mission as engineer to the in

1

77

1

.

at length obtained for Isle of

him

a

com-

France, whence he returned

In this interval his heart and imagination doubtless

BEHNARDIN DE germs

received the

of his

events, indeed, of the

ST.

PIEHKE.

xvii

Many

immortal woi'ks.

"Voyage

"

a I'lle de France,

the

of

are to be

found modified by imagined circumstances in " Paul and Virginia. "

lie

returned to Paris poor in purse, but rich in

observations and mental resources, and resolved to devote

himself

to literature.

commended

to

By

the Baron de Breteuil he

was

re-

D'Alembcrt, wlio procured a publisher for his

" Voyage, " and also introduced him to Mile, de I'Espinasse.

But no one,

in spite of his great beauty,

to shine or please in society as

was

so

calculated

ill

His manners

St. Pierre.

were timid and embarrassed, and, unless to those with whom he was very intimate, he scarcely appeared intelligent. It is

sad to think that misunderstanding should prevail to

such an extent, and heart so seldom really speak appear cruel, and the sympathising indifferent. J\Jlle.

Judging of

de I'Espinasse from her letters, and the testimony of her

contemporaries,

it

seems quite impossible thai she could have

given pain to any one, more particularly to a St.

to heart, in

humane may

the intercourse of the world, that the most

Pierre's extraordinary talent

man

and profound

possessing sensibility.

Both she and D'Alembcrt were capable of appreciating him; but the society in which they moved laughed at his timidity,

and the tone of

raillery in

understood by him. circle

which they often indulged was not

It is certain

that he

withdrew from

their

with wounded and mortified feelings, and, in spite of an

explanatory letter from D'Alembert, did not return to inflictors of all this pain, in the

it.

The

meantime, were possibly

unconscious of the meaning attached

to their

as

words as were

drawn from their flight. "Preambule de I'Arcadie," has patheti-

the birds of old of the augury St. Pierre, in his

cally

and eloquently described the deplorable

health

and

feelings,

aiter

fi'equent

state of his

humihating

disputes

and disappointments had driven him from society; or rather,

MEMOIR OF

xvHi

when,

from

"self-banished"

Rousseau, he was

like

it.

"I was struck," he says, "with an extraordinary malady. Streams of fire, like lightning. Hashed before my eyes every :

object appeared to

saw two

me

double or in motion

In the finest day

suns...

of

:

like GCdipus, I

summer, I could not cross

the Seine in a boat without experiencing intolerable anxiety. If,

in a public garden, I

spasms and a feeling of horror.

suffered from

cross a garden in which

looked at me, of

me."

It

merely passed by a piece of water,

I

many

I

people were collected

:

if

they

immediately imagined Ihey were speaking

was during

this state of suffering that

I

could not

ill

he devoted

himself with ardour to collecting and making use of materials

work which was to give glory to his name. was only by perseverance, and disregarding many rough and discouraging receptions, that he succeeded in making

for that It

acquaintance with Rousseau, St.

whom

he so

much

resembled.

Pierre devoted himself to his society witii enthusiasm,

visiting

him

frequently and constantly,

for Ermenonville.

these

It is

till

men, such enthusiastic admirers

natural in

all

St. Pierre

rambles,

if,

of Nature

and the

things, should have possessed factitious rather

than practical virtue, and a world.

Rousseau departed

not unworthy of remark, that both

wisdom wholly

unfitted for the

asked Rousseau, in one of their frequent

had not intended to "No," replied Rousseau, "St. Preux is have been, but what I wished to be." St. Pierre in delineating St. Preux, he

represent himself. not what

I

would most likely have given the same answer had a similar question been put to him with regard to the Colonel in "Paul and Virginia." This, at least, appears the sort of old age he loved

to

For

contemplate and wished to realize. six years

difficulty

he worked

at his

"Etudes," and with some

found a publisher for them.

M. Didot, a celebrated

typographer, whose daughter St. Pierre afterwards muri'ied.

LiERNAliDlN consented

many

to print a

The success

well

rewarded

"Etudes de

of the

PJEUHE.

for the undertaking.

surpassed (he most

la Natui'i',"

Four years

sanguine expectation, even of the author. its

after

publication, S(. Pierre gave to the world

"Paul and Virgi-

some time been lying

in his portfolio.

nia,"

which had

He had

for

tried its elfect, in manuscript,

had shed tears

at

ils

on persons

They had given

characters and pursuits. all

xix

manuscript which had been declined by

He was

otliers.

ST.

])]•

it

of dillerent

no applause, but

perusal; and perhaps few works of a

decidedly romantic character have ever been so generally read, or so

much

ration of

approved.

it is

Among

names whose admi-

the great

on record, may be mentioned Napoleon and

Humboldt. In 1789 he published "Les Vieux d"un Solitaire" and Suite des Vu'ux."

By

the Moniletir of the day these works

wore compared to the celebrated pamphlet que

ce

favour.

and

le

tiers etat?"

In 1791

"La

of Sieyes, "Qu'est-

which then absoi'bed

all

the public

"La Chaumiere Indienne" was published;

in the following year, about thirteen days before the cele-

brated tOth of AugusI, Louis XVI. appointed St. Pierre Super-

intendent of the "Jardin des Plantes."

Soon afterwards

the

King, on seeing him, complimented him on his writings, and told

him he was happy

to

have found a worthy successor

to

Buffon.

Although and knowing city

deficient in exact little

knowledge

and the retirement in which he

epoch, to the situation. fifty-seventh year,

of the sciences,

of the world, St. Pierre was, by his simpli-

About

lived, well suited, at that

this time,

and when

In 4795 he became a

member

of the

French Academy,

and, as wasjust, after his acceptance of this honour,

no more against

in his

he married Mile. Didot.

literary societies.

place, he retired to Essonne.

It is

On

lie

wrote

the suppression of his

deligblful to follow

him

MEMOIR OF

XX there,

His days flowed

and to contemplate his quiet existence.

on peaceably, occupied in the publication of "Les Harmonies de la Nature," the republication of his earlier works, and the

composition of some lesser pieces. regrets an interruption

to

these

He himself

affectingly

On

occupations.

being-

appointed Instructor to the Normal School, he says, "I

my

obliged to hang accept an I

am

having

me so much

He as

employment useful

afflicted at

given

as glory,

In any case,

so full

to

to

my

my

family and

river,

my

am

and

to

country.

suspend an occupation which has

happiness."

enjoyed, in his old age, a degree of opulence, which,

much

tion.

harp on the willows of

had perhaps been the object it is

of his

ambi-

gratifying to reflect, that after a

life

of chance and change, he was, in his latter years,

surrounded by

much

that should

accompany

old age.

His

day of storms and tempests was closed by an evening of repose and beauty.

Amid many

other blessings, the elasticity of his

mind was

He died at Ei'agny sur I'Oise, on the The stirring events which then occupied France, or rather the whole world, caused his death to be little noticed at the time. The Academy did not, however, neglect to give him the honours due to its members. Mons. Parseval Grand Maison pronounced a deserved eulogium on his talents, and Mons. Aignan, also, the customary tribute,

preserved to the

last.

21st of January 1814.

taking his seat as his sviccessor.

Having himself contracted the habit of confiding and sorrows

to the public, the

his griefs

sanctuary of his private

life

was open alike to the discussion of friends and enemies. The biographer who wishes to be exact, and yet set down nought in malice, is forced to the contemplation of his errors. The secret of many of these, as well as of his miseries,

seems revealed bv himself in

this sentence

:

BER.NAhDlN DE '

'I

more pain from a

experience

And

from a thousand roses." seems

to

me

bad,

if

I

find in

PIERRE.

ST.

xxi

single thorn than pleasure

elsewhere, "

The

best society

one troublesome, wicked,

it

slanderous, envious, or perfidious person."

Now,

taking- into

consideration that St. Pierre sometimes imagined persons

were really good

who

be deserving of these strong and very

to

it would have been diflicult indeed to which he could have been happy. He was,

contumelious epithets, find a society in

therefore, wise in seeking retirement,

in soli-

— for they were mistakes, — arose from

His mistakes,

tude.

and indulging

a too quick perception of evil, united to an exquisite and

When

diffuse sensibility.

he

felt

wounded by

a thorn, he

forgot the beauty and perfume of the rose to which

longed, and from which, perhaps,

And he was exposed

were

tion of trials that

Few

(as often

it

have been

less

least in

could not be separated.

harmony with

But one less tender than

soured by

be-

happens) to the very descriphis defects.

dispositions could have run a career like his,

remained unscathed.

it

his

and have

own would

For many years he bore about

it.

with him the consciousness of unacknowledged talent.

The

world cannot be blamed for not appreciating that which had never been revealed.

and elbowing to

him

But we know not what the jostling meantime, may have been

of that world, in the

— how

often he

may have

how

far that

treatment

treated, or

and corroded

heart.

his

Who

felt

himself unworthily

may have

shall

preyed upon

say that

with this

consciousness there did not mingle a quick and instinctive perception of the hidden motives of action

sometimes

detect,

— that he did not

where others might have been blinded, the

undershuffling of the hands in the bye-play of the world?

Through

all his

writings,

and throughout

his correspon-

dence, there are beautiful proofs of the tenderness of his feelings,

— the most essential quality, perhaps, in any writer.

.MEMOIR OF

XXII

It is at least

The

one

that, if not possessed, can

never be attained.

familiarity of his imagination with natural objects,

he was living far removed

fi'ora

them,

is

when

remarkable, and

often affecting.

He

returned to this country, so fondly loved and deeply

cherished in absence, to experience only trouble and culty.

as

it

Away fi'om

were, once

more and

neglected by

it,

to bitterness

and

he had yearned to behold

it,

to his his

all

all

place

if

— his

Oh who but must look with chai'ity !

— on what mustbavethen appeared

him such unmitigable woe!

One

it,

returned to feel as

rapturous emotions were changed

Under

the induence of these

saddened feelings, his thoughts flew back left, to

diffi-

to fold

discontent and irritation consequent on such

a depth of disappointment to

—

His hopes had proved delusions

gall.

expectations, mockeries.

and mercy on

He

bosom.

it,

all lieauly,

to the island

he had

as well as all happiness, there!

great proof that he did beautify the distant

may

lie

foundin theconlrastof some of the descriptions inthe " Voyage a rile de France," and those in " Paul and Virginia." That spot which,

when

peopled

liy

the cherislied creatures of his

imagination, he described as an enchanting and delightful

Eden, he had previously spoken of as a " rugged counlrv, covered with rocks," Truth, probably,

— "a land of Cyclops blackened by

lies

fire."

belween the two representations; the

sadness of exile having darkened the one, and the exuberance of his imagination embellished the other. St. Pierre's

merit as an author has been too long and too

universally acknowledged to

dwelt on here. life

A

make

it

needful that

it

should be

careful review of the circumstances of his

induces the belief that his writings grew

mitted so to speak) out of his

life.

(if it

may

be per-

In his most imaginalive

passages, to whatever height his fancy soared, the startingpoint seems ever from a fact.

The

past appears to liave been

BiniNAROI.N BE ST. PlERUi:. always spread out before him

on which

landsca|te,

from which

his

mind

when he

it

sia,

MUe. de

When

with

whom

names

objects

he had

Tonr, the niece of General Dubosquet, would

la

most beloved

he wished

some

at Berlin,

power to marry Virginia Tanbenheim;andin Rus-

in his

luivc accepted his hand.

his

comphicency, and

transferred and idealised

He was

grateful recollection caused

on

wrote, like a beautiful

his eye rested with

without a servile imitation of any.

had

xxiii

him

too poor to

marry

either.

Paul was the name of a

creation.

friar

he had associated in his childhood, and whose to imitate.

How

A

bestow the names of the two

to

little

life

had the owners of these

anticipated that they were to

become the baptismal

appellations of half a generation in France, and to be re-echoed

through the world to the end of time In " Paul and Virginia" he was supremely fortunate in his !

subject.

It

was an

new

entirely

creation, uninspired

previous work, but which gave birth to

many

furnished the plot to six theatrical pieces. to

which the author could bring

and a man while ;

excluded.

all

his deficiencies

by any

others, having

It

was a subject

his excellences as a writer

and defects were necessarily

Inno manner couldheincorporatepolitics, science,

or misapprehension of persons, while his sensibihty, morals,

and wonderful

talent for description,

were

in perfect accor-

dance with, and ornaments to it. Lemontcy and Sainte Beuve both consider success to have been inseparable from the happy selection of a story so entirely in harmony with the character of the author and that the most successful ;

writers might

was

in the

envy him so fortunate a choice.

habit of saying,

whenever he saw

" M. Bernardin, when do you mean

and Virginias, and Indian Cottages? every six months." The " Indian Cottage,"

if

to give

Bonaparte St.

Pierre,

us more Pauls

Yououghttogivciissome

not quite equal in interest to

MEMOIR OF BERNAHDI.\ DE

XXIV

" Paul and Virginia," great

honour

lo

is still

a charming production, and does

the genius of

antique and Eastern

PIERRE.

ST.

author.

ils

gems of thought.

comparisons are scattered through

its

abounds

It

pages

;

and it

of the Paria was, with St. Pierre, the result of bis

rience

;

delight-

own expeof Bem-

— " Misfortune resembles the Black Mountain

ber, situated at the extremity of the

hore

is

and solemn answer

ful to reflect that the following beautiful

:

in

Striking and excellent

while you are climbing

barren rocks

;

but

it,

burning kingdom of La-

you only

when you have reached

see heaven above your head,

and

at

your

see before its

you

summit, you

feet the

kingdom

of

Cachemere."

M'hen this passage was written, the rugged and sterile rock had been climbed by its gifted author. He had reached the summit, his genius had been rewarded, and he himself saw the heaven he wished to point out to others.

—

For the

facts contained in this brief

indebted to St. Pierre's verselle," to the

"•

own works,

Memoir

the writer

is

" Biographic Uniles Ouvrages de Ber-

to the

Essai sur la Vie et

nardin de St. Pierre," by M. Aime Martin, and to the very excellent and interesting " Notice Historique ct Litteraire " of M. Sainte Beuve.

PREFACE I projected in this

a very grand design

I under-

book.

little

took to describe in

it

and a

different

from

vegetation

those in

a soil

Europe.

Our

poets have long enough placed their lovers

of streams

in

meadows and beneath leafy

I have chosen to seat at the foot trees,

them by

the rocks,

banana-trees

and a give

of

on the

the

margin

borders

beech-trees.

of

the

sea.

beneath the shade of cocoa-nut

and flowering

lemon-trees.

A

Theocritus

Virgil are only needed in ihe other hemisphere to

us

scenes

at

least

as

interesting as

those

in

our

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

XXVI

invn

T

land.

sens;

southern

tants

and

still

those

I wished

in the tropics, the

and this amongst

others

:

to

that those of

history

whom I write

true in

is

its

many

certified

by

France.

I have only

moral beauty of a

me

principal inciilents.

filled

known in.

When

fect sketch

known

of

to

that

readers the

I

in

has

still

to

and several grave

to

see

the

signiors

of

details,

stamp of

who

come and hear

them shed

know.

But

lived far

it

read, so

tears.

This

and

I had iras

that

was

the all

as a great vice often follows a little

this success inspired

the

been

the Isle

of such completely opposite characters.

I desired

their

dreic out a very imper-

only criticism I could obtain from them,

work

and that

This

me

assert

estimate the effect the tale loould produce upon

satisfaction

talent,

to fiction

kind of pastoral, I requested a lady well

this

the great world, to

I might

go

some unimportant

several years ago

in society,

away from

many grand

lean

families.

but which being personal to myself have reality.

to

actually existed;

residents

the

of Nature and Virtue.

happy

description of such

unite with

to

bring out

Nevertheless there has been no need for

my

inhabi-

their

of

of

that our happiness consists

in living accorditig to the dictates

for

islands

Europeans who land

the

of

Ipurposedalso

community.

truths,

many

maimers

the

landscape.

of Nature

beauties little

more

the

there, spoil

but

taste

of fine

travellers

that

us charming descriptions of

have given the

am aware

me

"Picture of Nature."

with the conceit

Fortunately

I

to call

my

recollected

PHEFACK.

how

great a strangpv

land,

and

in

I was

cntmtries

productions en voyageur

to

Nature even

where//)

how

xxvii

I had

describe her

and mode of expression

it

I

I

drew back

into

happens that I have included

name and

in the set

of

my

my

incapacity,

their indulgence.

nalive

merely seen her

my

how to

devoid I was of

appreciate

shell again.

this feeble

and

to

Thus

attempt under the

Studies of Nature, which the

public have received so kindly; so that this recalling

my

rich, hoiv varied, beautiful,

iconderful and mysterious she is ; and talent, taste,

in

ivill

title,

while

always be a memorial of

"-^^^^^k^m

PAUL AND VIRGINIA Situate on the eastern side file

mountain

>\hich

of

above

rises

Port Louis, in the Mauritius, upon a piece of land bearing the

marks

of

former cultivation, are seen the ruins of two small cottages. far ,

These ruins are not

from the centre of a

formed

valley,

by immense rocks, and which opens only

towards the north.

mountain called the

On

the left rises the

Height

whence the eye marks the distant

of

sail

Discovery,

when

it first

touches the verge of the horizon, and whence the signal 1

is

PALL AND VIRGIMA.

2

when

given this is

At tiiefoot of

a vessel approaches the island.

Onthe

mountain stands the town of Port Louis.

to the

formed tlieroad which stretches from Port Louis

Shaddock Grove,where the church head, surrounded by

its

jjearing that

right

name lifts its

avenues of bamboo, in the middle

spacious plain; and the prospect terminates in a

of a

island.

The

denominated the Bay

of the

forest extending to the furthest

front view presents the bay,

Tomb

a

:

little

on the right

bounds of the

is

seen the Cape of Misfor-

tune; and beyond rolls the expanded ocean, on the surface

of which

among

appear a few uninhabited islands

and,

;

others, the Point of Endeavour, which resembles

a bastion built

upon the

flood.

At the entrance of the valley which presents these various objects, the echoes of the mountain incessantly

repeat the hollow

murmurs

of the winds that shake the

neighbouring forests, and the tumultuous dashing of the

waves which break

at a distance

the ruined cottages all

objects which there

upon the

calm and

is

grow

even on

base

at their

their majestic

,

on

tops,

The showers, which

to repose.

still,

;

and

but near only

the

meet the eye are rude steep rocks,

that rise like a surrounding rampart. trees

cliffs

tlieir

where

Large clumps of rifted

the

sides

,

clouds

and

seem

their bold points attract,

often paint the vivid colours of the rainbow on their green

and brown river

declivities,

which flows

Palms. silence.

and swell the sources of

the

little

at their feet, called the river of

Fan-

\\'ithin this

enclosure reigns the most profound

The waters, the

air, all the

elements are at peace.

Scarcely does the echo repeat the whispers of the palm-

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

trees,

spreading their broad

leaves, the long points of

which

are gently agitated by the winds.

A

soft light illumines the bottom of this

deep valley, on which the sun shines only at

noon.

But, even at break of day, the rays of light are

thrown on the surrounding rocks; and rising above the

this scene

I

like tints

upon the azure sky.

loved to resort, as

at once the richness of an

charm

sharp peaks,

shadows of the mountain, appear

of gold and purple gleaming

To

their

I

could here enjoy

unbounded landscape, and the

of uninterrupted solitude.

One day, when

I

was

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

4

seated at the foot of the cottages, and contemplating their

man, advanced

ruins, a

He was dressed

passed near the spot.

in years,

in the ancient garb of the island, his feet

were bare, and he leaned upon a

was white, and the expression of dignified

and

interesting.

I

he returned the salutation

;

ebony

staff of

his hair

:

his

countenance was

to

him with respect;

bowed

me

and, after looking at

with

some earnestness, came and placed himself upon the hillock

on which

of confidence,

me

tell

to

I

was seated.

Encouraged by

thus addressed

I

whom

him

:

mark

this

— " Father, can you

those cottages once belonged? "

—

•"

My

son," replied the old man, " those heaps of rubbish, and that untitled land, were, twenty years ago, the property of two famihes,

Their history his

way

who then found happiness

is

affecting; but

to the Indies, will

in this solitude.

what European, pursuing

pause one

moment

to interest

What

himself in the fate of a few obscure individuals?

European

can

picture

happiness

amidst poverty and neglect?

The

to

imagination

his

curiosity of

mankind

is

only attracted by the history of the great, and yet from that

knowledge

rejoined, I

perceive

human

little

use can be derived."

—

^"

Father,"

1

"from your manner and your observations, that you have acquired much experience of

life.

If

you have leisure, relate to me,

beseech

I

you, the history of the ancient inhabitants of this desert;

and be assured, that even the men who are most perverted by the prejudices of the world find a soothing pleasure in contemplating that happiness which belongs to simplicity

and virtue."

The

old

man,

after a short silence,

which he leaned his face upon his hands, as

if

during

he were

—

PAUL

AiND VIRGINIA.

3

trying to recall the images of the past, thus began his

narration

:

Monsieur de of

Normandy,

in the

la

after

who was

Tour, a young man,

a native

having in vain solicited a commission

French army, or some support from his own family, determined

at length

to seek his fortune in this island,

He brought

where he arrived in 1726.

woman, whom he

loved tenderly, and by

She belonged

less tenderly beloved.

family of the secretly

hither a young

whom

to a rich

he was no

and ancient

same province; but he had married her

and without fortune, and

who

will of her relations,

in opposition to

the

refused their consent because

he was found guilty of being descended from parents who

had no claims his wife

Monsieur de

to nobiUty.

la

Tour, leaving

Port Louis, embarked for Madagascar,

at

in

order to purchase a few slaves, to assist him in forming a

He landed atMadagascar during

plantation in this island.

that unhealthy season which of October

and soon

;

lential fever

commences about

the middle

after his arrival died of the pesti-

which prevails

in that

island six

months

of

the year, and which will for ever baffle the attempts of

the European nations to fatal soil.

form estabhshments on

His effects were seized upon by the rapacity

of strangers, as

commonly happens

foreign parts; and his wife, herself a credit

widow

in a

to

persons dying in

who was pregnant, found

country where

she had neither

nor acquaintance, and no earthly possession, or

rather support, but one negro solicit

that

woman.

Too

delicate to

protection or relief from any one else after the

death of him

whom

alone she loved, misfortune armed

PAUL AND VIRGINIA. her her with courage, and she resolved to cuUivate, with slave

,

a

little

spot of ground

,

for herself the

and procure

means

of subsistence.

Desert as

was the island, and the ground left to

/CM^^^M^^" ^'^^^'^K

the choice of the settler,

she avoided those spots which

were

most

favourable !.v^./ V

and

fertile

most

commerce

to

:

seeking some nook of the

mountain

,

some

se-

cretasylumwhere she might

live

solitary

and

unknown,

^,

she bent her way from the town towards these rocks, where

she might conceal herself from observation All sensitive and .

suffering creatures, from a sort of

common

instinct, fly for

PAUL AND VIRGIMA.

7

refuge amidst their pains to haunts the most wild and desolate

;

— as

rocks could form a rampart against misfortune

as

if

if

the

calm of nature could hush the tumults of the

That Providence, which lends

soul.

its

support when we

ask but the supply of our necessary wants, had a blessing in reserve for

Madame

de

nor greatness can purchase

The spot

to

:

la

—

Tour, which neither riches this blessing

which Madame de

la

Tour

been inhabited for a year by a young good-natured, and

peasants, by with

whom

whom

heart, she

woman

if,

of a lively,

Margaret

she was cherished and beloved, and in simple

life

misled by the weakness of a tender

had not listened

gentleman

to the passion of a

neighbourhood, who promised her marriage.

in the

(for

in Brittany, of a family of

she might have passed through

rustic happiness,

friend.

had already

fled

affectionate disposition.

was her name) was born

that

was a

He

soon abandoned her, and adding inhumanity to seduction, refused to insure a provision for the child of

she was pregnant.

Margaret then determined

which

to leave for

ever her native village, and retire, where her fault might

be concealed, to some colony distant from that country

where she had girl

lost the

— her reputation.

purchased an old negro a

little

corner of this

Madame came

de

la

to this spot,

slave,

with

whom

she cultivated

district.

by her negro woman,

where she found Margaret engaged Soothed and charmed by the

a person in a situation la

With some borrowed money she

Tour, followed

suckling her child.

Madame de

only portion of a poor peasant

Tour

somewhat similar

to

related, in a few words,

in

sight of

her own, iier

past

,

PAUL AND VIRGIMIA. condition and her present wants. affected

by the

fidence

than to create

more anxious

recital; and,

Madam!

—

you!

my

deserve

I

at

once

to merit con-

esteem, she confessed,

disguise, the errors of which she

me, "said she,"

Margaret was deeply

without

" As for

had been guilty.

fate; but you.

vir-

tuous and un-

happy"

— and

sobbing, she offered

her friendship.

Madame

de

la

Tour both her hut and

That lady, affected by

this tender recep-

tion, pressed her in her arms, and exclaimed, "

Heaven has put an end spires you, to

whom

I

to

am

my

Ah

!

misfortunes, since

a stranger, with

surely it

in-

more goodness

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

mc

towards

have ever experienced from

1

was acquainted with Margaret

habitation

is

neighbour. In the

cities of

frequently prevents

from meeting

for years

I

Europe, a street, even a simple

members

same family

of the

but in new colonies we consider

;

whom we

only by woods and mountains; and above

when

Indies,

vicinity alone

had

this island

No sooner was

found a companion than being useful to

Madame

de

la

my

are divided all,

at

that

intercourse with the

little

gave a claim to friendship, and

hospitality toward strangers

pleasure.

woods

considered myself as her

those persons as neighbours from

period,

my

and, although

;

a league and a half from hence, in the

behind that sloping mountain,

wall,

my own

!"

relations I

than

9

I

I

seemed

duty than a

less a

informed that Margaret had

hastened to her, in the hope of

neighbour and her guest.

Tour possessed

I

found

of all those melancholy

graces which, by blending sympathy with admiration, give to beauty additional power.

Her countenance was

interesting, expressive at once of dignity

She appeared told the

children,

to

be in the

two friends

and

last stage of

her pregnancy.

I

that, for the future interests of their

to prevent the intrusion of

they had better divide between wild, sequestered valley, extent..

and dejection.

They confided

which

them is

that task to

two equal portions of land.

any other

settler,

the property of this

nearly twenty acres in

me, and

I

marked out

One included the higher part

of this enclosure, from the cloudy pinnacle of that rock,

whence springs the cleft

river of Fan-Palms, to that precipitous

which you see on the summit of the mountain, and

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

10

which, from

resemblance in form to the battlement of a

its

Embrasure.

fortress, is called the

path along this

which

is

It is difficult

to find a

portion of the enclosure, the soil of

^Yild

encumbered with fragments

channels formed by torrents

and innumerable springs and

;

yet

it

worn

of rock, or

into

produces noble trees

The other portion

rivulets.

of land comprised the plain extending along the banks of

we

the river of Fan-Palms, to the opening where seated,

two

whence the

river takes its course

hills, until it falls into

vestiges of

mon

is

rugged

less

other; since in the raiay season in dry

weather

is

trace the

becomes marshy, and

it

When

almost resist the stroke of the pickaxe.

persuaded

I

com-

than the

,

hard and unyielding that

so

divided the property,

still

this part of the

but not more valuable

,

now

between those

You may

the sea.

some meadow land; and

are

my

I

it

will

had thus

neighbours to draw

lots for their respective possessions.

The higher portion of

land, containing the source of the

river of

became the property comprising the

of

plain

Madame

la

Tour

on the banks of the

and each seemed

allotted to

Margaret

her share.

They entreated me

;

de

together, that they might at

all

Fan-Palms, ;

the lower, river,

was

satisfied with

to place their habitations

times enjoy the soothing

intercourse of friendship and the consolation of mutual

kind

offices.

Margaret's cottage was situated near the

centre of the valley,

own

plantation.

and

just

on the boundary of her

Close to that spot

for the residence of

Madame

I

built another cottage

de la Tour; and thus the two

friends, while they possessed all the advantages of neigh-

bourhood, lived on their own property.

I

myself cut pali-

PAUL AND VlUr,IMA. sades from the mountain, and brought leaves of I'an-palms

from the sea-shore, tages,

now

of which you can

discern neither the

entrance nor

the

Yet, alas! there

main

but

traces

for

brance

!

so

re-

many

too

my rememTime,

rapidly

seems

roof.

still

which

destroys

proud monuments in this

hour of

the

of empires,

desert to spare

those of friendship, as last

two cot-

in order to construct those

my

if

to perpetuate

my

regrets to the

existence.

As soon as the second cottage was finished, Madame de la Tour was delivered of a the

girl.

I

had been

godfather of Margaret's child, christened by the

Madame to

de

la

name

who was of Paul.

Tour desired me

perform the same

office for

her child also, together with

PAUL AND VIUGIMA.

12

her friend, will

who gave

her the

be virtuous, " cried

happy.

I

name

"She

of Virginia.

" and she

Margaret,

be

will

have only known misfortune by wandering

from virtue."

About the time Madame de two

little

estates

Tour recovered, these

la

had already begun

some produce,

to yield

perhaps in a small degree owing to the care which sionally bestowed

on their improvement, but

far

the indefatigable labours of the two slaves. slave,

who was

called

Domingo, was

robust, though advanced in years

still

I

occa-

more

to

Margaret's

healthy and

he possessed some

:

knowledge, and a good natural understanding.

He

culti-

vated indiscriminately, on both plantations, the spots of

ground that seemed most

fertile,

and sowed whatever grain

he thought most congenial to each particular the

ground was poor, he strewed maize

most

fruitful,

where

it

was

he planted wheat; and rice in such spots

as were marshy.

cucumbers

;

\\'here

soil.

He threw

the seeds

at the foot of the rocks,

of gourds

which they loved

climb, and decorate with their luxuriant foliage. spots he cultivated the sweet potato

;

and to

In dry

the cotton-tree flou-

rished upon the heights, and the sugar-cane grew in the clayey

He reared some

soil.

plants of coffee on the hills,

where the grain, although small, is trees,

excellent.

His plantain-

which spread their grateful shade on the banks of

the river,

and encircled the cottages, yielded

out the year.

And,

lastly,

Domingo,

cultivated a few plants of tobacco.

employed sometimes

in cutting in

wood

for firing

fruit

through-

to soothe his cares,

Sometimes he was from the mountain,

hewing pieces of rock within the enclosure.

PAUL AND VIRGINIA. in

order to level the paths.

enabled him

perform

to

all

13

which inspired him

Tlie zeal

these labours with intelligence

He was much

andaclivity.

at-

tached to Margaret, and not less

Madame de la Tour, whose negro woman Mary, he had

to

,

married on the birth of Virginia;

and he was passionately

Mary was

fond of his wife.

born

at

Madagascar, and

had there acquired the

know-

ledge of

some useful

arts.

She could weave baskets, and a

sort of stuff, with long grass that

She was

in the

woods.

above

all, faithful.

their meals, to

Port Louis, to

It

grows

active, cleanly,

was her care

to

and, prepare

rear the poultry, and go sometimes to

sell

plantations, which

the superfluous produce of these

was

little

not, however, very considerable.

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

14

If

you add

to

the personages

mentioned two

already

goats, which were brought up with the children, and a

you

great dog, which kept watch at night,

will

have a

complete idea of the household, as well as of the productions, of these

Madame employed

in

two

farms.

little

de la Tour and her friend were constantly

spinning cotton for the use of their families.

Destitute of everything which their

supply, at

home

own

industry could not

they went bare-footed

:

shoes were a

convenience reserved for Sunday, on which day,

mass

at

aa

at the

church of the Shad-

dock Grove, Nvhich you see yonder.

That church was

early hour, they attended

more

distant from (heir

seldom visited the town,

homes than Port Louis lest they

;

but they

should be treated with

contempt on account of their dress, which

consisted

simply of the coarse blue linen of Bengal, usually worn

111';

LiiiLUKiix's bA'ni

C^O^Xr

POU'lilJDCl' AJ.u 30[I3

PAUL AND VIKGIXIA. by

But

slaves.

there in that external deference which

is

fortune

commands,

piness?

If

suffer

these

13

a compensation

domestic hap-

for

women had something

interesting

to

from the world, their homes on that very account

became more dear Domingo,

from

them.

to

No sooner

Mary and

did

perceive their mis-

elevated spot,

this

on the road of the Shaddock Grove, than they flew

tresses

mountain

to the foot of the

help them

in order to

to

ascend. They discerned in the looks of their domestics the joy which their return excited. neatness, independence,

They found

in their retreat

the blessings which

all

ai^e

the

recompense of toil, and they received the zealous services which spring from

United by the

affection.

tie

of similar

wants and the sympathy of similar misfortunes, they gave each other the tender names of companion, friend,

They had but one possessions were

one interest, one

will,

in

more ardent than

sister.

All their

table.

common.

And if sometimes

friendship

awakened

a passion

in their

hearts

the pang of unavailing anguish, a pure religion, united

with

manners

chaste

another

life

:

heaven, when

The

the

as it

,

drew

their

trembling

affections

flame

rises

towards towards

no longer finds any aliment on earth.

duties of maternity

became

a source of additional

happiness to these affectionate mothers, whose mutual friendship gained

dren,

new

equally the

They delighted

in

strength at the sight of their chil-

offspring of an

to rest in the

changing the maternal bosom

nourishment.

attachment.

washing their infants together

same bath, in putting them in

ill-fated

"My

at

friend," cried

same

in the

cradle,

and

which they received

Madame

de la Tour,

PAUL AND VIRGIMA.

16

"we

shall each of us

have two children, and each of our

As two buds which

children will have two mothers."

remain on different trees of the same kind, after the tempest has broiven

cious

all their

branches, produce more deli-

each, separated from the maternal stem, be

fruit, if

grafted on the neighbouring tree; so these two infants,

deprived of

when thus exchanged

their other relations,

all

nourishment by those who had given them birth,

for

imbibed feelings of affection of son

still

and daughter, brother and

more tender than those While they were

sister.

yet in their cradles, their mothers talked of their riage.

They soothed

to the future

plation often

their

own

cares by looking forward

happiness of their children

drew forth their

mar-

;

but this contem-

The misfortunes

tears.

of

one mother had arisen from having neglected marriage; those of the other from having submitted to

had suffered by aiming

to rise

laws

:

one

above her condition, the

other by descending from her rank. solation in reflecting that their

its

But they found con-

more

fortunate children,

from the cruel prejudices of Europe, would enjoy at once the pleasures of love and the blessings of equably. far

Rarely, indeed, has such an attachment been seen as that

which the two children already

other.

testified

for each

IfPaul complained of anything, his mother pointed

to Virginia; at her sight

he smiled, and was appeased.

If

any accident befel Virginia, the cries of Paul gave notice of the disaster

;

her complaints I

came

but the dear if

little

creature would suppress

she found that he was unhappy,

hither,! usually found

them

custom of the country, tottering

quite naked, as

in their

^^'hen is

the

walk, and hold-

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

17

ing each other by the hands and under the arms, as see represented the constellation of

these

infants often

found lying

in

bosoms pressed round each

the

same

other's neck, in

cradle,

together,

close

locked

sleeping,

refused to be

The Twins.

we

At night

separated, and were

cheeks,

their

their

hands thrown

their

and

one

another's arms.

When to give

they began to speak, the

first

names they learned

each other were those of brother and

childhood knows no softer appellation.

by directing them ever

the

and

Their education,

to consider each

tended greatly to increase their affection. all

sister,

other's wants,

In a short time,

household economy, the care of preparing their

rural repasts,

became

the tasic of Virginia,

whose labours

were always cro\Yned with the praises and kisses of her brother.

As

for Paul, always in motion, he

with Domingo, or followed him with a the

woods; and

if,

in his rambles,

dug the garden

little

hatchet into

he espied a beautiful 3

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

18

any delicious

flower,

fruit,

or a nest of birds, even at the

top of a tree, he would climb up, and bring the spoil to his

When

sister.

you met one of these children, you

might be sure the other was not

One day, as

I

far off.

was coming down that mountain,

I

saw

the end of the garden, running towards the

Virginia at

house with her petticoat thrown over her head in order to screen herself from a

shower of

rain.

At a distance,

alone

;

tened

was

she

thought

but as

I

has-

I

towards

her in order to help her on,

I

perceived

that

held

Paul

she

by the arm,

most

al-

entirely

enveloped in the

same

canopy,

and both were laughing under an

heartily at their being sheltered together brella of their in the

mind

own invention.

These two charming

middle of the swelling petticoat, recalled the children of Leda, enclosed in the

Their sole study was

one another

;

how

same

um

faces, to

mv

shell.

they could please and assist

for of all other things they

and indeed could neither read nor

write.

were ignorant,

They were never

Till

.T

1

.Ml;i:!-1

I

\

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

i9

disturbed by

inquiries about times

past

nor

,

did

their

curiosity ex-

tend beyond the bounds

of

their

mountain. They believed the world ended at the shores of their own island, and all their ideas

were

and

confined

all

their

within

affections limits.

its

Their mutual tenderness, and that of their mothers,

employed

all

the energies

of their minds.

Their tears had never been called forth

by tedious application

sciences. Their

to useless

minds had never been

wearied by lessons of morality, superfluous to

bosoms unconscious

of

They had never been taught not to

ill.

steal,

because everything with them was in

common

;

or not to be intemperate, be-

cause their simple food was

own to

discretion

conceal.

terrified

;

or

not to

lie,

left to

their

because they had nothing

Their young imaginations had never been

by the idea that God has punishments

in store for

ungrateful children, since, with them, fdial affection arose

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

20

All they

naturally from maternal tenderness.

taught of religion was to love

it

;

and

if they

had been

did not offer up

in the long prayers in the church, wherever they were,— towards house, in the fields, in the woods, they raised

innocent hands, and hearts purified by virAll their early childhood passed thus, tuous affections. Already like a beautiful dawn, the prelude of a bright day.

heaven

their

they assisted their mothers in the duties of the household. As soon as the crowing of the wakeful cock announced the first

beam

of the

morning, Virginia arose, and hastened to

draw water from a neighbouring spring: then returning the house, she prepared the breakfast.

When

to

the rising

sun gilded the points of the rocks which overhang the enclosure in which they lived, Margaret and her child repaired

Madame

to the dwelling of

de la Tour, where they offered This sacrifice of thanks-

up their morning prayer together. giving always preceded their

first

repast, which they often

took before the door of the cottage, grass,

under a canopy of plantain

:

seated

upon the

and while the branches

of that delicious tree afforded a grateful shade,

its

fruit

furnished a substantial food ready prepared for them by nature; and

its

long glossy leaves, spread upon the table,

supphed the place

Plentiful

of linen.

and wholesome nou-

rishment gave early growth and vigour to the persons of these children,

and

their

countenances expressed the

purity and the peace of their souls.

age the figure of Virginia was in

At twelve years of

some degree formed

:

a

profusion of light hair shaded her face, to which her blue eyes and coral lips gave the most charming brilliancy.

Her eyes sparkled with

vivacity

when she spoke; but

:

PAUL AND VlRGIlMA. when

slie

was

silent they

21

were habitually turned upwards,

with an expression of extreme sensibility, or rather of

The

tender mclanclioly.

Paul began already

figure

to display the

He

graces of youthful beauty.

was

than Virginia

taller

his skin tint

was of a darker

aquiline;

more

nose

his

;

of

and

his black

eyes would have been too

piercing,

the

if

eyelashes

by

,

which they were shaded, had not imparted to

them an ex-

pression of soft-

He

ness.

con-

\Nas

stantly

in

motion, ex-

when

cept

his sister ap-

peared

,

and

then, seated by

^,>-r/

seek the of

society

persons in an inferior station only for the of surrounding themselves

sake

with flatterers, and that every

must applaud

terer

alike all the

actions of his patron, whether

On

or bad.

flat-

good

the other hand, they

avoided, with equal care, too intimate

an acquaintance with the lower

class,

who

are ordinarily jealous, calumnia-

ting,

and gross. They thus acquired,

with

some, and

timid,

of

being

of pride

others,

\\ith

their reserve

much

character

the

:

but

was accompanied with so

obliging politeness,

above

all

to-

wards the unfortunate and the unhappy, that they insensibly acquired the respect

of the rich

After often

and

the confidence of the poor.

service,

required

at

some kind their

office

was

hands by their

poor neighbours.

Sometimes a person troubled advice

;

in

mind sought

sometimes a child begged them

their

to visit its sick

mother, in one of the adjoining hamlets.

They always

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

61

took wilh them a few remedies for the ordinary diseases of

country, which they administered in that soothing

tlie

manner which stamps

a value

upon the smallest favours. Above

,

met

they

all,

with singular success in

the

administering

disorders of the

mind,

intolerable

so

and under

in solitude,

the

to

of

infirmities

a

weakened frame. Ma-

dame

de

Tour

la

^'"^^fe#i %?1^-

spoke with such sublime confidence of the

V'-^

'

Divinity, that the sick, while listening to her, almost be-

lieved

Him

Virginia tears,

present. often returned

home with her

and her heart overflowing with

eyes

full

of

delight, at having

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

62

for to her generally

had an opportunity of doing good;

was confided the task of preparing and administering the medicines,

—a task

\Yhich she fulfilled with angelic sweet-

ness.

After these visits of charity, they sometimes extended

walk hy the Sloping Mountain,

their

my

dwelling, where

cottage.

of

old

I

wine,

they reached

used to prepare dinner for them

I

on the banks of the

my

till

little

rivulet

which glides

near

procured for these occasions a few bottles in

order to heighten the relish of our

Oriental repast by the

more

genial productions of Europe.

At other times we met on the sea-shore, at the mouth of

some

little

river,

or rather

mere brook.

We

brought

from home the provisions furnished us by our gardens, to

which we added those supplied us by the sea

abun-

in

dant variety.

We

caught on these shores the mullet, the

roach,

and the sea-urchin, lobsters, shrimps, crabs, oysters,

and

all

other kinds of shell-fish.

we

In this way,

often

enjoyed the most tranquil pleasures in situations the

most

terrific.

Sometimes, seated upon a rock under

the shade of the velvet sun-flower tree,

mous waves

of the Indian

with a tremendous noise. fish,

would advance on the

we saw

the enor-

Ocean break beneath our Paul,

who could swim

reefs to

feet

like a

meet the coming

bil-

lows; then, at their near approach, would run back to the

beach, closely pursued by the foaming breakers, which

threw themselves, with a roaring noise, far on the sands.

But Virginia,

at this sight, uttered piercing cries,

that such sports frightened her too

much.

and said

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

63

Other amusements were not wanting on these

songs and dances of the two young people. life,

were impelled by avarice

to cross the

than cultivate the earth, and enjoy

Virginia sang

raging ocean, rather

its

bounties in peace.

Sometimes she performed a pantomime with Paul,

after the

of the negroes.

The

first

children

and

of

the

from

facility

man

language of

to all nations,

among

the

and the misery of those who

the happiness of pastoral

manner

festive

Our repasts were generally followed by

occasions.

the

is

is

so natural

pantomime

it is

and expressive,

European inhabitants negroes.

:

catch

known

that the

with

it

from

recaUing,

Virginia,

the histories which her mother had read to her,

those which had affected her most, represented the principal events in at

the

the

them with beautiful

Sometimes

simplicity.

sound of Domingo's tamtam she appeared upon

greensward,

bearing

a

pitcher

upon

her

head,

and advanced with a timid

step towards the source of a

neighbouring

draw water.

fountain,

to

Domingo and

Mary, personating the shepherds of Midian, forbade her to approach,

and repulsed her

flew to her succour, beat ginia's pitcher,

brows

at the

sternly.

Upon

away the shepherds,

and placing

it

this

Paul

filled

Vir-

upon her head, bound her

same time with a wreath

of the red flowers

of the Madagascar pariwinkle, which served to heighten

the delicacy of her complexion. sports,

I

Then, joining in their

took upon myself the part of Raguel, and bestowed

upon Paul

my

daughter Zephora in marriage.

Another time Virginia would represent the unhappy Ruth, returning poor and widowed with her mother-in-law,

PAUL

64

who,

after

unknown

A.ND VIRGINIA.

so prolonged

an absence, found herself as

Domingo and Mary perThe supposed daughter of Naomi

as in a foreign land.

sonated the reapers.

followed their steps, gleaning here and there a few ears of corn.

When

interrogated by Paul,

—a

part which he per-

formed with the gravity of a patriarch,

— she

He

his questions with a faltering voice.

answered

then, touched

with compassion, granted an asylum to innocence, and hospitality to misfortune.

He

filled

her lap

N\ith

plenty;

and, leading her towards us as before the elders of the declared his purpose to take her in marriage.

city,

this scene,

Madame

de

situation in which she

la

At

Tour, recalling the desolate

had been

left

by her relations, her

widowhood, and the kind reception she had met with from Margaret, succeeded

now by

the soothing hope of a happy

union between their children, could not forbear weeping

and these mixed recollections of good and all to

evil

;

caused us

unite with her in shedding tears of sorrow

and of

joy.

These dramas were performed with such an

air of reality,

that you might have fancied yourself transported to the

plains of Syria or of Palestine.

We

were not unfurnished

with decorations, lights, or an orchestra, suitable to the representation.

The scene was generally placed

open space of the

forest, the diverging paths

in an

from which

formed around us numerous arcades

of foliage,

we were sheltered from the heat

the middle of the day

but rays,

when

all

the sun descended towards

broken by the trunks of the

the

trees, darted

under which

horizon,

:

its

amongst the

f'-Mti».e

firma-

ment; and a pale

pened

,

at

last.

away;

we

all

The

rolling of

dreaded hapcables

which held her bow were

she then swung to a single hawser, and

instantly dashed

of half a cable's length

upon the rocks,

at the distance

from the shore.

A general 21

cry of

:

PALL AND VIRGINIA.

162

Paul rushed forward

horror issued from the spectators. to

throw himself into the

when, seizing him by the

sea,

arm "

My " Let me

son,"

I

—

"would you perish?"

exclaimed,

go to save her," he cried, ''or

let

me

die!"

Seeing that despair had deprived him of reason, Do-

mingo and

I,

in order to preserve

cord round his waist, and held

it

him, fastened a long

fast

by the end.

Paul

then precipitated himself towards the Saint-Geran,

swimming, and now walking upon the rocks.

now

Sometimes

ho had hopes of reaching the vessel, which the sea, by the reflux of

its

waves, had

have walked round

it

almost dry, so that you could

left

on

foot; but

returning with fresh fury, shrouded of water,

which then

lifted

upon the beach,

it

beneath mountains

upright upon

moment threw

breakers at the same far

it

suddenly the billows,

the unfortunate Paul

bosom

his legs bathed in blood, his

wounded, and himself half dead.

The

its keel.

The moment he had

recovered the use of his senses, he arose, and returned

new ardour towards the vessel, the parts of which now yawned asunder from the violent strokes of the billows. The crew then, despairing of their safety, threw with

themselves in crowds into the sea upon yards, planks,

hencoops, tables, and barrels.

At this

momentwe

beheld

an object which wrung our hearts with grief and pity

young lady appeared

in the

Geran, stretching out her arms towards him

had discovered her lover by his girl,

exposed

to

a

stern-gallery of the Saint-

making so many efforts to join her. of this amiable

:

It

who was

was Virginia.

She

The

sight

intrepidity.

such horrible danger, fdled

t

,

;

—

"

--^^

7.

\'l!-;r,i\iA

DV

Ho.\i;i>

THl':

SIIIH

PAUL AND MKGLNIA. US

willi

unutLerable despair.

As

for

163

Virginia, \Nith

firm and dignified mien, she waved her hand, as

us an eternal farewell.

ding

sailors

sea,

if

a

bid-

All the

had flung themselves into the

who still remained deck, and who was naked,

except one,

upon the

and strong as Hercules. This

man approached

respect,

Virginia with

and kneeling

at

her

feet,

attempted

force her

to

throw

off

her clolhes

;

but she repulsed

him with modesty, and turned away her head. were heard redoubled

cries

to

Then

from the spectators, "Save

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

164

her! a

— save her! — do not leave her!" Bui

at that

moment

mountain billow, of enormous magnitude, ingulfed

between the

its

Amber and

Isle of

the coast,

towards which

shattered vessel,

itself

and menaced the

rolled bellowing, with

it

black sides and foaming head.

At

this terrible sight the sailor flung himself into the

and Virginia, seeing death

sea,

her

inevitable, crossed

hands upon her breast, and, raising upwards her serene

and beauteous eyes, seemed an angel prepared flight to

heaven.

Oh, day of horror!

up by the relentless the spectators,

ed

to

Alas! everything was swallowed

The surge threw some

ijillows.

whom

l"ar

who had endeavoured

man, who had escaped from almost

upon the beach, and to save her life.

but I would have given

young

as

had done."

I

lady,

Domingo and his

He was mouth and

be

put

shore.

I

drew the

senseless, ears.

into the

Thou

hast saved

wilhngly for that excel-

it

who persevered

This

certain death, kneeling

on the sand, exclaimed, — "Oh my God! lent

of

an impulse of humanity had prompt-

advance towards Virginia,

also the sailor

my life,

to take her

in not

undressing herself

Paul to the

unfortunate

and blood was flowing from

The Governor ordered him

hands of a surgeon, while we,

to

on

our part, wandered along the beach, in hopes that the sea

would throw up the corpse of Virginia. having suddenly changed, as

it

frequently happens during

hurricanes, our search was in vain; and of thinking that

we should not be

sweet and unfortunate girl the

But the wind

last

we had

the grief

able to bestow on Ibis

sad duties.

We retired

pal:

I,

AND VIRGINIA.

165

from Ihe spot overwhelmed with dismay, and our minds wholly occupied by one cruel loss, although numbers had perished in the wreck.

Some

tempted, from the

destiny of this vir-

tuous

girl

vidence rible

the

,

;

,

to

fatal

of the spectators

soemed

doubt the existence of Pro-

for there are in life

such unmerited

hope of the wise

evils is

,

such that

ter-

even

sometimes

shaken. In the

began

meantime, Paid, who

to recover his sensc-

"

^^^^^^"'^^^

-^ t^/.v

-A

!

PAIH.

166

was taken

was I

in a

bent

fit

a

to

house

state to be

my way

AXn VIRGINIA. in the

removed

neighbourhood,

to his

own home.

he

till

Thither

with Domingo, to discharge the melancholy

duty of preparing Virginia's mother and her friend for the

When we

disastrous event which had happened.

had

reached the entrance of the valley of the river of FanPalms, some negroes informed us that the sea had thrown

up many pieces of the wreck descended towards struck

my

sight

The body was

it;

We

the opposite bay.

objects which

first

upon the beach was the corpse of Virginia.

lialf

covered with sand, and preserved

which we had seen her perish.

attitude in

were not sensibly changed countenance was

still

;

tlie

Her features

her eyes were closed, and her

serene; but the pale purple hues

were blended on her cheek with the blush of

of death

One

virgin modesty.

clothes;

in

and one of the

of her

hands was placed upon her

and the other, which she held on her heart, was

fast closed,

took from

emotion,

and so its

when

stiffened that

was with

it

How

grasp a small box. I

saw

it

whicli she had promised

difficulty

great

I

my

was

contained the picture of Paul,

him never

to part with while she

lived

At the sight of this

last

tenderness of the unfortunate

mark girl,

I

of the

wept

fidelity

bitterly.

Domingo, he beat his breast, and pierced the shrieks.

With heavy

hearts

we then

for

with his

carried the body of

Virginia to a fisherman's hut, and gave

some poor Malabar women, who

air

and

As

it

carefully

in

charge

to

washed away

the sand. ^^'l)ile

they were employed in this melancholy office.

PAUL

we ascended

We

tion.

the

hill

found

A.NU VIRGINIA.

167

with trembling steps

Madame

de

to the planta-

Tour and Margaret

la

at

prayer, hourly expecting to have tidings from the ship.

As soon

Madame

as

eagerly

cried,

daughter

— my

de

child?"

Tour saw me coming, she

la

— "Where

my

is

My

daughter

She was

prised her of her misfortune.

— my

my

and

silence

dear

tears

ap-

instantly seized

with a convulsive stopping of the breath and agonising pains,

and her voice was only heard

Margaret cried,— " son

" !

— and

^\'e

Where

is

my

son?

and groans.

do not see

I

my

fainted.

ran to her assistance.

recovered,

in sighs

short time

a

In

and being assured that Paul was

safe,

she

and

under the care of the Governor, she thought of nothing but of succouring her friend, fainting

fit

only to

fall

who

recovered from one

Madame

into another.

de la Tour

passed the whole night in these cruel sufferings, and

became convinced

that there

was no sorrow

1

like that of

a mother.

When

she recovered her senses

unconscious look towards heaven.

and myself pressed her hands

upon

her

by the

in ours

she cast a fixed,

,

In vain :

her friend

in vain

most tender names

we

called

she appeared

;

wholly insensible to these testimonials of our affection,

and no sound issued from her oppressed bosom but deep

and hollow moans. During the morning, Paul was carried home in palanquin.

He had now

but was unable to utter a word.

mother and Madame de

a

recovered the use of his reason,

la

His interview with his

Tour, which

I

had dreaded.

^

dfiS

PAUL

A.ND VIUGliNlA.

produced a boiler

effect

than

all

my

cares.

A

ray of con-

solation gleamed on the countenance of the two unfortu-

nate mothers. to

liim,

They

clasped

pi'essed close

him

arms, and kissed him tears,

in :

their

their

*

'^

-

f^

which excess of an-

guish had

till

now

dried up at

the

source

,

began

to

flow.

Paul mixed his tears ing thus found

relief,

with theirs; and nature hav-

a long stupor succeeded the con-

,

PAUL AND VIRGINIA. vulsive pangs

lethargic

had

lliey

sufTered,

which

repose,

was,

169

and afforded Ihem a

in

truth,

like

that

of

death.

Monsieur de

la

Bourdonnais sent

to

apprise

me secretly

that the corpse of Virginia had been borne to the town

by his order, from whence

it

was

church of the Shaddock Grove. to

Port Louis, where

all

I

to I

be transferred to

I

lie

immediately went down

found a multitude assembled from

parts of the island, in order to be present at the funeral

solemnity, as

and dearest

if

to

the

it.

isle

The

had

lost that

which was nearest

vessels in the harbour

had their

yards crossed, their flags half-mast, and fired guns at long intervals.

A

body of grenadiers led the funeral procession

with their muskets reversed, their muffled drums sending

forth

slow

and

dismal

sounds.

had so often braved death

in

battle

was

Dejection

depicted in the countenances of these

who

warriors,

without changing

colour.

Eight young ladies of considerable families island, dressed in white, their hands,

of the

and bearing palm branches

carried the corpse of their amiable

in

com-

panion, which was covered with flowers.

They were followed by

a chorus of children, chanting

hymns, and by the Governor,

his field officers, all

principal inhabitants of the island, and an

the

immense crowd

of people.

This imposing funeral solemnity had been ordered by the administration of the country, which

was desirous of

doing honour to the virtues of Virginia.

But when the

PAUL AND VIRGIMA.

170

mournful procession arrived

at the foot of this

mountain,

within sight of those cottages of which she had so long

been an inmate and an ornament, diffusing happiness

**-«

all

around them, and which her loss

had

now

filled

despair, the funeral

with

pomp was

interrupted, the

hymns and

anthems ceased, and the whole plain resounded with sighs and lamentations.

Numbers

of

young

girls

ran from the

;

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

171

neighbouring plantations, to touch the coffin of Virginia with their handkerchiefs, and, with chaplets and crowns of flowers, invoking her as a saint.

Heaven a

child like Virginia

;

Mothers asked of

lovers, a heart as faithful

the poor, as tender a friend; and the slaves, as kind a mistress.

PAUL AND VlRCl.MA.

172

When

the

procession

had

reached

the

place

of

interment, some negresses of Madagascar and Caffres of

Mozambique placed

a

the corpse and hung

according

trees,

Some

Indian

number

of baskets of fruit

pieces of stuff

to the

around

upon the adjoining

custom of their several countries.

women from

Bengal, also, and from the coast of Mala-

brought

bar,

cages

full

of

small birds,

which M't

they

at

upon her

coffin.

ble being affect

Thus deeply did the

loss ot this

the natives of different countries

amia,

and

thus was the ritual of various religions performed over the

tomb It

of unfortunate virtue.

became necessary

to place

guards round her grave,

Till-:

I'UNinjAi

PAUL AMJ VlKGl.MA. and

employ gentle force

to

in

removing some of the

daughters of the neighbouring villagers, to

throw themselves into

longer any consolation

to

it,

173

who endeavoured

saying, that they had

hope

for

in

this

world

,

no

and

that nothing remained for

them but

to

die

with their benefactress.

On

the western side

of the church of the of

bamboos, where,

mother

and

Shaddock Grove in

Margaret,

seated by the side of brother.

is

a small copse

returning from mass with her Virginia loved to

rest

him whom she then

herself,

called

her

This was the spot selected for her interment.

PALL AND VIRGINIA.

174

At his return from the funeral solemnity, Monsieur de

Bourdonnais came up here, followed by part of his

la

numerous her friend

He

retinue.

offered

the assistance

all

Madame

was

it

in his

la

Tour and

power

to bestow.

de

After briefly expressing his indignation at the conduct of

her unnatural

he advanced

aunt,

to

and said

Paul,

everything which he thought most likely to soothe and console him. I

wished

insure

to

My

family.

— " Heaven

is

my

witness," said he, "that

your happiness, and that of your

dear friend, you must go to France

:

I

will

obtain a commission for you, and during your absence will take the

same care

He then

own."

mother as

of your

offered

him

his

if

she were

I

my

hand; but Paul drew

away, and turned his head aside, unable to bear his sight. 1

remained for some lime

unfortunate friends, that

Paul those

wounds

was able

the plantation of

might render

offices of friendship that

and which might the

I

at

to

alleviate,

of calamity.

walk

;

to

were in

my

them and

my

power,

though they could not heal,

At the end of three weeks Paul

but his mind seemed to droop in pro-

He was insensible his look was vacant and when asked a question, he made no reply. Madame de la Tour, who was dying, said to him often, " My son, while I look at

portion as his body gathered strength. to everything

;

;

—

you,

I

think

Virginia he

I

see

my

dear Virginia."

At the name of

shuddered, and hastened away from her,

notwithstanding the entreaties of his mother,

who begged

him

to

to

come back

into the garden,

and

to

her friend.

He used

go alone

seat himself at the foot of Virginia's

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

Hli

who had shown

Governor's surgeon,

The

upon the fountain.

cocoa-tree, with his eyes fixed

the most

humane

attention to Paul and the whole family, told us that, in

deep melancholy which had taken

cure the

order to

possession of his mind,

we must

allow

he pleased, without contradiction

him

do whatever

he said, afforded

this,

:

to

the only chance of overcoming the silence in which he

persevered. I

resolved to follow this advice.

The

Paul made of his returning strength was

from the plantation. of him,

I

to

first

Being determined not to lose sight

set out immediately,

and desired Domingo to take

some provisions and accompany

The young man's

us.

strength and spirits seemed renewed as

He first took Grove and when he was near

the mountain. ;

Bamboos, he walked

use which

absent himself

:

Shaddock

the church in the Alley of

directly to the spot

some earth fresh turned up

he descended

the road to the

kneeling

where he saw

down

there,

and

raising his eyes to heaven, he offered up a long prayer.

This appeared of his reason

me

to ;

a favourable

since this

mark

preme Being showed that resume

natural functions.

its

his example,

fell

of the return

of confidence in the Su-

mind was beginning to Domingo and I, following

his

upon our knees, and mingled our prayers

When

with his.

symptom

he arose, he bent his way, paying

little

attention to us, towards the northern part of the island.

As

I

knew

that he

was not only ignorant of the spot where

the body of Virginia had been deposited, but even of the fact that

it

had been recovered from the waves,

him why he had

offered

up his prayer

I

asked

at the foot of tho.^e

.

,

PAUL AND Vinr.lMA.

I7G

bamboos an-

lie

swered,

— " ^Ve have been there so often."

He continued his course until we reached the borders of the forest, when night came on.

of

some nourishment,

taking

him

on

prevailed

same

him the example

set

I

and we

;

grass

the

at

slept

to

after

for,

;

a

tree

thought he

t

seemed disposed his steps

upon

of

foot

The next day

do

to

retrace

having

gazed a considerable time

from the

plain

upon the

the

Shaddock

church

of

Grove,

with

avenues

bamboos

of

movement

he made a as

but

if

long

its

to return

home

;

suddenly plunging

into the forest,

he

di-

rected his course towards the north. his

design,

him from

and it.

Golden Dust.

I

I

guessed what was

endeavoured, but in vain, to dissuade

About noon we arrived

He rushed down

at the quarter of

to the seashore, opposite

PAUF,

the

to

'^^

spot

had been wrecked. of

Amber, and

mirror,

he

i(s

I

difficulty in

where the Saint-Geran

him

— "Virginia!

fell

senseless.

into the

wished

oh,

IB

my

Domingo

woods, where we had some

As soon

recovering him.

his senses, he

Isle

channel, then smooth as a

exclaimed,

carried

17";

At the sight of the

dear Virginia!" and

and

AND VIRGINIA

as he regained

to return to the sea-shore; but

conjured him not to renew his

we own anguish and ours by

such cruel remembrances, and he took another direction.

During a whole week he sought every spot where he had once wandered with the companion of his

He

childhood.

traced the path by which she had gone to intercede for

the slave of the Black River.

He gazed again upon the

banks of the river of the Three Breasts, where she had rested herself

when unable

to

walk further, and upon that 23

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

d78

part of the

wood where they had

haunts, which recalled to his

memory

All the

way.

lost their

the anxieties, the

sports, the repasts, the benevolence of her he loved, river of the Sloping Mountain,

my

—the

house, the neighbour-

ing cascade, the papaw-tree she had planted, the grassy fields in

which she loved

where she used tears

;

to run, the

openings of the forest

to sing, all in succession called forth his

and those very echoes which had so often resounded

with their mutual shouts of joy, accents of despair,

— "Virginia!

now oh,

During this savage and wandering

sunk and hollow, his skin rapidly

health

my

dear Virginia! his eyes

life

assumed a yellow

tint,

"

became and

his

Convinced that our present

declined.

sufferings are rendered

repeated only these

more acute by the

bitter recollec-

bygone pleasures, and that the passions gather

tion of

strength in solitude,

I

resolved to remove

my

unfortunate

friend from those scenes which recalled the remembrance of his loss,

and

With

island.

to lead

this view,

him I

to a

more busy part

conducted him

of the

to the inhabited

part of the elevated quarter of Williams, which he

had

never visited, and where the busy pursuits of agriculture

and commerce ever occasioned much bustle and

Numbers

of carpenters were

and squaring planks

;

employed

trees, while others

in

variety.

hewing down

were sawing them into

carriages were continually passing

and repassing

on the roads; numerous herds of oxen and troops of horses were feeding on those widespread meadows, and the whole country was dotted with the dwellings of man.

On some

spots the elevation of the soil permitted the culture of

many

of the plants of

Europe the yellow ears of ripe corn :

PAUL waved upon the plains openings of

liie

A.ND VIRGINIA.

;

strawberry plants grew in the

woods, and the roads were bordered by

The freshness

hedges of rose-trees.

giving tension to the nerves, of Europeans.

179

From

of the

was favourable

to

those heights, situated

air, too,

the health

near the

middle of the island, and surrounded by extensive forests, neither the sea, nor Port Louis, nor the church of the

Shaddock Grove, nor any other

remembrance

object associated with the

of Virginia could be discerned.

Even the

mountains, which present various shapes on the side of Port Louis, appear from hence hke a long promontory, in a straight lofty

and perpendicidar

line,

from which arise

pyramids of rock, whose summits are enveloped

in

the clouds.

Conducting Paul in action,

walking

night and by day.

to these scenes, ^\ith I

him

in

1

kept him continually

rain and sunshine, by

sometimes wandered with him into

PAUL AND VUIGINIA.

ISO

Llic

depths

ol'

the forests, or led

him over

untilled grounds,

hoping that change of scene and fatigue might divert his

mind from

But the soul of a

gloomy meditations.

its

lover finds everywhere the traces of the beloved object.

Night and day, the calm of solitude and the tumult of crowds, are to him the same: time

shade of oblivion over so

many

itself,

which casts the

other remembrances, in

vain would tear that tender and sacred recollection from

when touched by the loadstone, may have been moved from its position, is The

the heart.

however

it

needle,

no sooner

left to

attraction.

So,

repose, than

when

I

" he pointed to the north,

mountains I

;

— "\Yhere

and

said,

shall

we now

"Yonder are our

us return home."

let

now saw

its

inquired of Paul, as wc wandered

amidst the plains of ^Villiams, go?

turns to the pole of

it

that

all

his

melancholy were

left

but an attempt

the

means

fruitless,

to

combat

took to divert

I

him from

and that no resource was his passion

ments which reason suggested.

I

by the argu-

answered him,

— "Yes,

there are the mountains where once dwelt your beloved Virginia; and here

she held, even in

when

its last

is

the picture you gave her, and which

dying, to her heart

moments only

sented to Paul the

little

;

that heart, which

beat for you."

portrait

I

then pre-

which he had given

Virginia on the borders of the cocoa-tree fountain. this sight a

gloomy joy overspread

his countenance.

to .Vt

He

eagerly seized the picture with his feeble hands, and held it

to

his lips.

His oppressed

bosom seemed ready

burst with emotion, and his eyes were

which had no power

to tlow.

filled

to

with tears

PAUL AMJ VIIICIMA. "

My

who was

son," said

I,

181

who

"listen to one

your friend,

is

the friend of Virginia, and who, in the

your hopes, has often endeavoured against the unforeseen accidents of

your mind

to fortify

What do you much bitterness?

life.

deplore with so Is it

bloom of

your own misfortunes, or

those of Virginia, which affect

you so deeply?

"Your own

misfor-

tunes are indeed severe.

You have amiable

the

most

girls,

who

lost

of

would have grown up

womanhood

a pattern to

her sex; one ficed

to

who

sacri-

her own interests to

yours,

who

preferred you

to all that fortune could

and

bestow,

dered

'1-

consi-

you

only

as

recompense

worthy of her tues. this

very object, from

piness, have proved distress?

whom you

But

the

vir-

might not

expected the purest hap-

you a source of the most cruel

to

She had returned poor and disinherited

:

all

you

could henceforth have partaken with her was your labour.

Rendered more

delicate

by her education, and more coura-

geous by her misfortunes, you might have beheld her every

day sinking beneath her

efforts to

share and lighten your

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

)82

fatigues.

children, they would only

Had she brought you

have served to increase her anxieties and your own, from the difficulty of sustaining at once your aged parents and

your infant family.

"Very

you

likely

will tell

me

that the Governor

have helped you; but

how do you know

whose Governors are

so frequently changed,

have had others

like

Monsieur de

la

would

that in a colony

you would

Bourdonnais?

— that

one might not have been sent destitute of good feeling and of morality?

— that your young wife,

procure

in order to

some miserable pittance, might not have been obliged to seek his favour?

been

to be pitied;

would

Had she been weak, you would have and

if

she had remained virtuous, you

have continued poor

yourself fortunate of your wife, you

if,

still

forced

even to

consider

on account of the beauty and virtue

had not

who had promised you "It would

;

to

endure persecution from those

protection.

have remained

to you,

you may say,

have enjoyed a pleasure independent of fortune,

— that of

protecting a beloved being, who, in proportion to her helplessness,

had more attached herself to you.

to

own

You may

fancy that your pains and sufferings would have served to

endear you to each other, and that your passion would have gathered strength from your mutual misfortunes.

Undoubtedly virtuous love does find consolation even in such melancholy retrospects. yet those persons

held most dear able affliction

;

is

still live,

But Virginia

whom,

is

no more;

next to yourself, she

her mother, and your own your inconsol;

bringing them both

to the

grave.

Place

your happiness, as she did hers, in affording them sue-

PAIL AND VIRGINIA.

My

COUP.

tuous

;

son

tliere is

on the

beneficence

!

no

liappiness of

llie

is

otlier greater or

183

more certain enjoyment

Scliemcs of pleasure, repose, luxuries,

eartli.

wealth, and glory are not suited to

and transitory as he

man, weak, wandering,

See how rapidly one

is.

step towards

the acquisition of fortune has precipitated us

lowest abyss of misery! true

;

but

tiie vir-

who would

were opposed

Voii

all

to

to it,

the it

is

not have thought that Virginia's

voyage would terminate in her happiness and your own?

An

invitation

from a rich and aged

relation, the advice

of a wise Governor, the approbation of the whole colony,

and the well-advised authority of her confessor, decided the lot of Virginia.

Thus do we run

would be

no doubt, not

better,

But

world.

men,

all

our ruin, deceived

who watch

even by the prudence of those

to listen to the voice or lean

to

to believe

over us.

It

them, nor even

on the hopes of a

deceitful

you see occupied

in these

—those

who go abroad to seek their fortunes, and Europe who enjoy repose from the labours of

plains, those

those in

others, are liable to reverses losing, at

some

period,

all

ness, wealth, wife, children,

would have of their

their

:

and

own imprudence.

your love.

is

secure from

most values,

friends.

— great-

Most of these

sorrow increased by the remembrance

But you have nothing with

which you can reproach yourself. in

not one

that he

In the

You have been faithful

bloom of youth, by not departing

from the dictates of nature, you evinced the wisdom of a sage.

Your views were

simple, and disinterested.

just,

because they were pure,

You had, besides, on Virginia,

sacred claims which nothing could countervail.

You have

PALL AND VIRGI.MA.

IS'f

lost lier

but

;

it is

neither your

avarice, nor your false

own imprudence, nor your

wisdom which

misfortune, but the will of God,

lias

occasioned this

who has employed

the

passions of others to snatch from you the object of your love; God,

what

is

from

most

whom

fitting for

you any cause

left

you derive everything, who knows

whose wisdom has not

you, and

for the repentance

and despair which

succeed the calamities that are brought upon us by ourselves.

"Vainly, in your misfortunes, do you say '

I

have not deserved them.'

Virginia

Is

it

to yourself,

then the calamity of

— her death, and her present condition, that you She has undergone the

deplore?

fate allotted to all,

—

to

high birth, to beauty, and even to empires themselves.

The

life

to a

tower, at whose

of

man, with

all

summit

is

herself, she is released

from

life

be compared

When

death.

was born, she was condemned

ginia

may

his projects,

to die

your

A'ir-

happily for

:

before losing her mother,

or yours, or you; saved, thus, from undergoing ])angs

worse than those of death

"Learn then,

men name :

it

is

which possess

to

son, that death

a benefit to

is

the night of that restless day

we

call

all

by the

of hfe.

"The

If

my

itself.

diseases, the griefs, the vexations,

perpetually it,

embitter

our

life

as

and the long

fears,

as

we

molest us no more in the sleep of death.

you inquire into the history of those

have been the happiest, you

bought their apparent

felicity

men who appear

will find that

very dear

ration, perhaps, by domestic evils

;

:

they have

public conside-

fortune, by the loss of

PAUL AND VIRGIMA. health

;

i83

the rare happiness of being beloved, by continual

sacrifices

;

and

often, at the expiration of a life devoted

good of others, they see themselves surrounded But Vironly by false friends and ungrateful relations. to the

ginia

was happy

us,

she

to

her very

last

When

moment.

with

was happy in partak-

ing of the gifts of na-

ture;

when

far from us,

found

she

enjoyment in the practice of vir-

tue

and

;

even

at the

moment which we saw her

terrible in

perish,

she

had

still

cause for self-gratulation. For, whether she cast her eyes on

the assembled colony, rable

so

by her expected

much

was

loss, or

intrepidity,

she must have seen

made miseon you,

life

;

how dear

and

reward which Heaven

son, who, with

were endeavouring she was to

fortified against the future

her innocent

my

at that

to

all.

save her,

Her mind

by the remembrance of

moment she

reserves for

virtue,

received the

—a

courage 2i

PAUL AND VIUGIMA.

186

She met death with a serene coun-

superior to danger.

tenance.

"

My

son

God

!

gives

the trials of

all

to virtue, in

life

order to show that virtue alone can support them, and

When He designs

even find in them happiness and glory. for

it

an illustrious reputation, He exhibits

on a wide

Then does the

and contending with death.

theatre,

it

courage of virtue shine forth as an example, and the misfortunes to which

has been exposed receive for ever,

it

from posterity, the tribute of their

This

tears.

is

the

immortal monument reserved for virtue in a world w here everything else passes away, and where the names^ even

number

of the greater

themselves, are soon

of kings

buried in eternal oblivion.

"Meanwhile, Virginia

My

exists.

still

son,

you see

that everything changes on this earth, but that nothing

No

ever lost.

art of

man

can annihilate the smallest

particle of matter: can, then, that

reason,

sensibility,

is

which has possessed

virtue,

affection,

and rehgion

be

supposed capable of destruction, when the very elements with which

it is

clothed are imperishable?

happy Virginia may have been with

more

us, she is

now much

so.

" There to

Ah! however

prove

proclaims

to you,

it

my

a God,

is

for

son

deny the existence of a But your mind

is fully

His works

are

believe that

He would

it

is

unnecessary for

the voice of

The wickedness

it.

:

all

me

nature loudly

mankind leads them to Being, whose justice they fear. of

convinced of His existence, while

ever before

your eyes.

leave Virginia without

Do you then recompense?

—

PAUL Do you think

that the

A.ND VIRGINIA.

same Power which enclosed her

noble soul in a form so beautiful,

from that

laws

itself,

187

— so

like

an emanation

could not have saved her from the waves?

He who has ordained

unknown

the happiness of

to you, cannot prepare a

still

man

here,

Ity

higher degree

which you are

of felicity for Virginia by other laws, of

we were born into this world, could we, do you imagine, even if we were capable of equally ignorant?

thinking at

And now

here?

tomb, or it?

have formed any idea of our existence

all,

and transitory in

Before

we

that

are in the midst of this

can we foresee what

life,

what manner we

Does God, hke man, need

gloomy

beyond the

is

be emancipated from

shall

this httle globe, the earth,

as a theatre for the display of His intelligence and His

goodness?

— and can He only dispose of human There

territory of death?

single drop of water

beings appertaining to for

him

in the

no supreme

is :

not peopled with living

does there exist nothing

What!

heavens above his head?

—

there

is

no divine goodness, except on

where we are placed?

rable glowing fires,

in the

not, in the entire ocean, a

man and

intelligence,

this little spot

is

which

life

In those

innume-

in those infinite fields of light

which

surround them, and which neither storms nor darkness can extinguish, eternal void?

is If

there nothing but

empty space and an

we, weak and ignorant as we are, might

dare to assign limits to that Power from received everything,

we might

whom we

have

possibly imagine that

we

were placed on the very confines of His empire, where life

is

perpetually struggling with death, and innocence

for ever in

danger from the power of tyranny

!

PAUL AND VIRGINIA. "Somewhere, then, without doubt, there world where virtue

now happy.

Ah!

if

another

Virginia

reward.

will receive its

is

is

from the abode of angels she could

hold communication

would

tell

you,

bade you her life

is

she did

as

last adieus,

but a scene of

she

you,

with

when she

— '0

trial.

Paul!

have

I

Df

id

virtue.

tions I

ot

;

I I

crossed the seas to obey the will of

sacrificed wealth in order to

preferred the loss of

modesty.

duties,

Heaven

and has

to

life

found

snatched

me

keep

my

my

faith

rela;

and

disobeying the dictates

that for

I

had

over

fulfilled

from

all

my the

;

PAUL AND VIRGIMA. miseries

have

might have endured myself, and

I

miseries of others.

for the

felt

above the reach of

am become

recall

my

!

evils,

am

I

I

might

placed far

and you pity me!

me

to the darkness of

beloved friend

when

happiness,

human

all

all

pure and unchangeable as a particle of

and you would Paul

189

light,

human

life!

recollect those days of

!

morning we

in the

I

the delightful

felt

sensations excited by the unfolding beauties of nature

when we seemed rocks,

and then

to

our desires, we wished

perfumes

once

at

our birds

;

and

;

all

to

dawn all

all

;

In the innocence of

be

all sight, to

all

smell, to taste a thousand

enjoy the rich

hearing, to listen to the singing of

heart, to be capable of gratitude for

Now, atthe source

these mingled blessings.

whence flows

peaks of those

experienced a delight, the cause of

which we could not comprehend.

colours of the early

to the

spread with his rays over the bosom

We

of the forests.

sun

to rise with the

that

delightful

is

upon

intuitively sees, tastes, hears, touches

of the beauty

earth,

my

soul

what before she

made sensible of through the medium of our weak organs. Ah what language can describe these could only be

!

shores of eternal bliss, which

inhabit for ever!

I

All

that infinite power and heavenly goodness could create to console the

unhappy

:

all

that the friendship of

berless beings exulting in the

we enjoy

in

which

now

is

unmixed

same

fehcity can impart,

Support, then, the

perfection.

allotted to you, that

1

will

—by a

union which

calm your regrets,

I

will

trial

you may heighten the

happiness of your Virginia by love which will termination,

num-

will

know no

be eternal.

wipe away your

There tears.

PAUL AND VIRGINIA.

190

Oh,

my

my

beloved friend!

thoughts towards the

youthful husband! raise your

enable you to support

infinite, to

the evils of a moment.'"

at

My own emotion choked my utterance. Paul, looking me steadfastly, cried, "She is no more! she is no

—

more!" and

a long fainting

succeeded these words of

fit

woe.

When is

a good, and since

and be united lation I

Virginia

Thus

to Virginia."

in the situation of a

happy,

is

had offered only served

I

was

he said, "Since death

himself,

restored to

will die too,

the motives of conso-

to nourish his despair.

man who

friend sinking in the midst of a flood,

attempts to save a

and who obstinately

Sorrow had completely overwhelmed

refuses to swim. his soul.

I

Alas! the trials of early years prepare

man

for

had never experienced

the afflictions of after-life; but Paul

any. I

took him back to his

mother and Madame de

own la

dwelling, where

Tour

I

found his

in a state of increased

languor and exhaustion, but Margaret seemed to droop the most.

upon

Lively characters,

have but httle

effect,

whom

petty troubles

sink the soonest under great cala-

mities.

"0 my good night

I

friend," said Margaret, "I thought last

saw Virginia, dressed

in white, in the

groves and dehcious gardens.

She said

to

me,

midst of '1

enjoy

the most perfect happiness;' and then approaching Paul

with a smiling I

air,

was struggling

she bore him away with her.

to retain

my

was quitting the earth, and

son

that

I

,

I felt

that

I

While

myself too

followed with inexpres-

;

PAUL AND VIRGINIA. sible delight.

when I saw

I

wished

Iheii

that she

circumstance remains yet

my

bid

was hastening

by Mary and Domingo.

Madame

to

101

after

friend farewell,

me, accompanied

But the strangest to

be told

:

de la Tour has this very

night had a dream exactly bke

mine

in

every possible res-

pect."

"My I

dear friend,"

replied, "nothing,

I

firmly believe, happens

world without the permission of God.

in this

Future

events, too, are sometimes revealed in dreams."

Madame de la Tour then related to me was exactly the same as Margaret's

and as

I

had never observed

her dream, which

in every particular

in either of these ladies

any

PAUL AND VIHGLNIA.

192

propensity to superstition,

was struck with the singular

I

coincidence of their dreams, and

would soon be

The

realised.

I

belief that future events are

sometimes revealed to us during sleep, diffused

men

among

convinced that they

felt

is

one that

The

the nations of the earth.

had

of antiquity have

faith in

is

widely

greatest

among whom may be

it,

mentioned Alexander the Great, Juhus C*sar, the Scipios, the two Catos, and Brutus, none of whom were weak-minded

persons.

Both the Old and the New Testament furnish us with numerous instances of dreams that came to pass.

As

for myself,

own

I

need only, on this subject, appeal

experience, as

I

my

have more than once had good reason

to believe that superior intelligences,

selves in our welfare,

to

who

communicate with us

interest

them-

in these visions

of the night.

Things which surpass the light of human cannot

be

reason; but

by arguments

proved still, if

of God, since

man

the

mind

of

derived

man

reason

from that

an image of that

is

can make known his will to the ends of

the earth by secret missives,

may

not the Supreme Intel-

ligence which governs the universe employ similar to attain a like letter,

end?

One

means

friend consoles another by a

which, after passing through

many kingdoms, and

being in the hands of various individuals at enmity with

each other, brings at single

human

being.

last

joy and hope to the breast of a

May

not in like

reign Protector of innocence come, in

manner

some

the help of a virtuous soul, which puts

alone?

Has He occasion

to

employ

its

visible

the Sove-

secret way, to trust in

means

Him

to effect

PAUL AND His puipusu

lliis,

ill

193

VlllC.l.NlA.

whose ways are

liidden

in all His

ordinary works?

\Miy should we doabL what

is

our

life,

dreams?

Ihe evidence of

occupied as

it is

for

with vain and fleeting

imaginations, other than a prolonged vision of the night?

may be thought

^^'hatever in

general,

of this

on the present

occasion the dreams of

my

.

friends were soon realised.

after the death

About a week

saw her

last

virtue only

»,

\ l'|}|j

Paul expired two months

of his Virginia,

his lips in his expiring

,,,

whose name dwelt on

moments.

after the death of

her son, Margaret

hour approach with that serenity which

can

feel.

She bade Madame de

la

Tour

PALL

194

A.ND VIRGINIA.

a most tender farewell, "in the certain hope," she said,

"of a delightful and

to desire its

be a punishment,

If life

it.

termination;

be a

if it

trial,

Death

re-union.

eternal

greatest of blessings to us," added she,

the

is

"and we ought

we should wish

we should be thankful

for

that

short."

it is

The Governor took were no longer able

Domingo and Mary, who

cai-e of

and who survived their

to labour,

mistresses but a short time.

As had

poor Fidele, he pined

for

to

death soon after he

lost his master. I

afforded an asylum in

Tour,

who

my

dwelling to .Madame de la

bore up under her calamities with incredible

She had endeavoured

elevation of mind.

and Margaret

their last

till

to console Paul

moments, as

had no misfortunes of her own

to bear.

were no more, she used

me

as of beloved friends,

survived

them,

to talk to

who were

still

however, but one

she herself

if

When

they

every day of them

living near her.

month.

She

Far from

reproaching her aunt for the afflictions she had caused, her benign

spirit

prayed to God to pardon her, and to

appease that remorse which we heard began to torment her as soon as she had sent Virginia away with so

much

inhumanity. Conscience, that certain punishment of the visited

with

all

its

terrors

the

mind

guiltv,

of this unnatural

relation. So great was her torment, that life and death became equally insupportable to her. Sometimes she

reproached herself with the untimely niece,

and with the death

of her

fate of

her lovely

mother whicii had im-

PALI,

mediately followed herself for creatures,

it.

AND VIRGINIA.

Al other times she congratulated

having repulsed

who, she

i9o

said,

far

from her two wretched

had both

dishonoured their

family by their grovelling inclinations. the sight of the

many

abounds, she would

Sometimes,

miserable objecls with which Paris

fly into

a rage and exclaim,

—"

\\'liv

are not these idle people sent off to the colonies?" for the notions of

by

all

As

humanity, virtue, and rehgion adopted

nations, she said, they were only the inventions ot

their rulers, to serve political purposes. at

at

Then, flying

all

once to the other extreme, she abandoned herself to

superstitious terrors,

She would then siasfics

give

which

filled

her with mortal fears.

abundant alms

who governed

to the

her, beseeching

wealthy cccle-

them

to

appease

PAUL AND VIRGIMA.

J96

God by the

the wrath of the offering to

Him

sacrifice of

of the wealth she

her fortune,— as

had withheld from

the miserable could please her Heavenly Father

imagination she often beheld "b

if

fields of fire,

In her

!

with burning b

mountains, wherein hideous spectres wandered about,

She threw herself

loudly calHng on her by name.

at

her

confessor's feet, imagining every description of agony and

cruel the

— always

sends to the

frightful views of religion

and a future

Heaven

torture; for

most

—just

Heaven

state.

Atheist, thus,

and death

fanatic in turn, holding both

and

in equal horror, she lived

on

life

for several years.

But what completed the torments of her miserable existence,

was that very object

every natural affection. ceiving that her fortune

whom of

it

must

at per-

go, at her deaths to relations

she hated, and she determined to alienate as

much

They, however, taking advantage of

as she could.

as a lunatic,

and her

spirits,

affairs to

caused her to be secluded

be put into the hands of

Her wealth, thus, completed her ruin; and as

trustees.

the possession of

it

sacrificed

She was deeply annoyed

her frequent attacks of low

its

which she had

to

it

had hardened her own heart, so did

anticipation corrupt the hearts of those

from her.

At length she died; and, to

who

coveted

crown her

misery, she retained reason enough at last to be sensible that she

was plundered and despised by the very persons

whose opinions had been her whole

On

rule of conduct during her

life.

the

same spot and

as his Virginia,

at the foot of the same shrubs was deposited the body of Paul and round ;

PAUL AND VIRGINIA. about them

their faithful servants.

memory

their

No marble marks the spot

engraven upon the hearts of those wliom have

befriended,

Their

racters.

the

,

of their

— no inscription records their virtues; but

is

they

'

mothers and

the remains of their tender

lie

humble graves,

107

their

Jji

life

;

have no need of

spirits

pomp which

they shunned

but

if

interest in

cha-

indelible

in

they

still

during take an

what passes upon doubt love

earth, they no

wander

beneath

roofs of these

to

the

humble

dwellings, inhaby

bited

indus-

virtue

trious

to

,

poverty

console

discontented with its lot,

the

in

to cherisJi

of

liearts

lovers the sacred

flame of

and

to

fidelity,

inspire

a

taste for the bless-

ings of nature, a

love of honest labour, and a dread of the allurements of riches.

The

voice

regard to the

some the

of

the people, which

monuments

parts of this island

loss

of Virginia.

is

often silent with

raised to kings, has given to

names which

Near the

will

Isle of

immortalise

Amber,

in

the

PAUL AM) VIHGl.MA.

198

midst of sand-banks, Saint-Geran, from

a spot called Tlio Pass of the

is

the

name

which was

of the vessel

there lost.

The extremity yonder,

which you see

of that point of land

three leagues off,

half-covered

water,

with

and which the Saint-Geran could not double the night before the hurricane,

and before us,

Tomb, where if

the

is

called

The Cape

end of the

at the

of Misfortune;

valley, is the

Bay

of the

Virginia was found buried in the sand; as

waves had sought

family, that they

to restore

might render

those shores where so

many

it

her corpse to her

the last sad duties on

years of her innocent

life

had been passed. Joined thus in death, ye faithful lovers, lenderly united!

who were

so

unfortunate mothers! beloved family!

wood

these

which sheltered you with foliage

,

their

— these

fountains which

flowed for you,

—

these

hill-

sides upon which

you reposed,

presumed

fled,

deplore your loss!

humble

cottages.

and nothing

haA\k, basin.

as

it

is

skims

since

Your goats are become

your orchards are destroyed

;

No one has

spot of land, or to

to cultivate that desolate

rebuild those

wild

still

;

your birds are

all

heard but the cry of the sparrowin cjuest of

prey around this rocky

PAUL AND VIRGIMA. As have

for myself, since

felt

friendless

1

have ceased

and alone,

children, or a traveller

199

to

behold you,

I

like a father bereft of his

who wanders by

himself over

the face of the earth.

Ending with these bathed in tears; and once during

this

wm i'age

PAUL AND VIRGLNIA.

206

E

Paul clasped the tree

in his

arms and kissed

it

with

fervour

Homer, who clothed for

alms

in such noble verse,

it

begged

all his life

" Virginia, return to these rocks, to the shelter of this wood, and toour cottages! Alas, jouniay be now unhappy! " Then he began to weep. Agricultural labour

the most despised of all.

is

" The reports of her aretoowell founded. Her aunt

has married her of riches has

Literature

some great

to

of Heavenly

is

good book

is

lord.

The love

undone her! " descenL Head,

a good friend

.

.

.

my

son, a

...

As soon as ever Paul perceived Uie family, who were awaiting him on the Rock of Adieux, he waved the letter in the air; he was unable to speak I

was hardly dressed when Paul, beside himself, and gasping for breath, clasped me round the " Virginia has arrived! " neck and cried out

—

There we rested

He drew up

his soldiers

dered them

A

by the

fire.

on the shore, and

or-

until day-break, seated

to

Are

all

together

terrible blast dispersed the fog

the Isle

of

Amber and

its

which covered

channel. The Saint-

Geran then became visible

The cables gave way, and as she was only held by a single hawser she was dashed upon the rocks

Domingo and I fastened a long rope round his waist, and held one end of it. Paul then advanced towards the Saint-Genin, sometimes by swimming, sometiiijes scrambling over the reefs

LIST

ENOHAVINGS ON WOOD.

01 soon as "

M°"=

Where

see

:

is

him anywhere!"

The grenadiers led the procession they carried their arras reversed; their drums, shrouded in crape, were muffled :

Eight young ladies of families of distinction on the island, dressed in white, holding palms in their hands, carried the body of their amiable companion, covered with flowers

They invoked her

as a Saint

At the same time M. de his

hand

lo Paul,

Huyot.

171

L. Rousseau.

l~i

A. Bklle.ni;er.

173

Bourdnnnais extended but he withdrew his and la

turned his head away

.

.

Paul went direct to the place where the earth had

been freshly turned and,

lifting

up

his

:

knelt down;

there he

eyes

Hi'aven,

to

prayed

long and earnestly

J.

Bamboos

Huyot.

.

A number

were cutting and fashioning trees and sawing planks carriages were passing and repassing along the roads. of carpenters

:

.

.

Then I gave Paul the little portrait which he had given to Virginia on the brink of the spring

A. Bellengeh.

Fortune and Virginia

"

It

seemed

white...

carried

Fame accompanied by

Misfortune.

now happy

is

me

J.

Huyot.

A. Belle.vger.

181

18o 188

saw Virginia clothed in she approached Paul smiling, and

to

that

I

him away with her."

.

.

.

.

.

his

months after the death of loved Virginia, whose name he never ceased

to

utter

L.

Rousseau.

191

L.

Rousseau.

193

Paul expired two

PAUL

208

A.ND VIRGINIA.

She would distribute abundant alms to the wealthy monls^s who governed her, begging them to turn aside the wrath of God liy the sacrifice of her fortune

Her

relatives,

taking advantage

of melancholv, caused her asylum

to

for

me,

I

am

be placed

as a friend friendless

childless; like a traveller

Page

A. Bellengkr.

193

A. Bellengeu.

IU7

of her attacks in

an

Notbing is heard but the cry of the sparrow-hawk as he skims around the rocks in quest of prey.

As

Engraver

;

J.

as a father

wandering alone on

the earth

J.

Head-piece of the Table of Eni^ravlngs on Wuod.

The church of the Paniplemousses. Tail-piece.

—

Port-Louis

Ornament.

—

Flowers.

Huvot.

)98

Printed by G. Chamerot.

— aOG9B